As the Darkness aproach
by Pathatlon
Summary: Discontinued - Harry Potter is sorted into Slytherin and Snape watches him as he goes through life at Hogwarts, realising too late that Potter is turning into something else than the saviour of the world. Angry/dark/Harry. Snape POV, nothing more. - 2nd year begun
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

A little note: since the POV is of Snape and not Harry please assume that Harry's had a life a little worse than what the book tells.

Also, I plan to go through all the 7 years (or what ever it turns out to be) of Hogwarts.

Why Snape? I chose Snape's POV because he's an analytical person and he notices more things than others. Also, I do plan to send Potter into the Slytherin house.

This is **NOT** a Snarry story. They have no relationship, besides hatred, possibly, between each other. Snape will NOT save Harry, they are not lovers or anything. I use Snape as a narrators simply, because I believe him to be able to realise Harry's future when it gets closer before anyone else. He's more realistic, his eyes are more open than others'.

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**Chapter 1 – pre-start**

I enter the staffroom just behind Trelawney. Both of us sits in the back, as usual, neither of us interested in the front, though the reasons are entirely different. _She_ likes to keep her inner eye clear. I just dislike the people. Immensely. As they do me.

The room is humming with speculations and I briefly wonder of what, until I remember that it's because of _him_; Harry Bloody Potter.

Which house will he be sorted into? The questions are thrown into the midst of the staff, each of them remembering qualities his parents had, which, surely, he must have inherited. I hold my tongue, knowing that this topic is unwise of me to comment. They know my dislike of James Potter and if the boy so much as inherited one strand of hair from James I shall dislike him just as much.

In fact, knowing he most likely was brought up being smothered as the little boy-hero he is makes me hate him prematurely. He will hold no regards to the rules, probably, and flaunt them as he sees fit; a pompous little boy, just like his father.

I keep it to myself though, being the only one, next to Quirinus Quirrel, The new DADA Professor.

Where did Dumbledore find such an imbecile anyway? I wonder at this briefly. I know it's hard to fill the position every year. I am uncertain whether or not the Dark Lord really placed a curse upon the position or if it's just a rumour. People tend to work themselves up, so it's quite probable just an idea they thought of after a few years of inconstant Professors. They need something to blame.

I sneer at them, but I have no real way of knowing the truth, as I have never been in favour of taking up the position; even when finding a professor has proved near-impossible.

I am uncertain whether it's because Albus believe in the Curse or if he is uncertain of what will happen if he unleashes me as a DADA teacher.

I'd like to think of myself more capable than anyone of those idiots who's taught here since I started to teach as well. But it's not my place to decide and I am forced to succumb to Dumbledore's wishes. Going against him only gives me a headache. His reasoning is beyond logic and you're left with a feeling of uncertainty in regards to your own mental capacity.

And should you manage to get through his logic and persist you'll make him one pissed off wizard and he'll latch onto the guilt you're already feeling towards, my case, my past and how _saved _me.

No, it's not something I am interested in pursuing again. Instead I make little remarks, here and there, to prove my point when the people he hires fails miserably.

We've had some idiots through the years, but this, I believe, is the first time we have a DADA professor who seems to be actually afraid of the subject itself.

Briefly I pity the students for not getting to learn something properly. I damn Albus for not teaching the children something they will have to use eventually. The Dark Lord isn't dead. He _will_ return.

The thought makes me shudder, but I cannot deny the truth of it. Albus knows it well enough and I do too. And so does a lot of ex-Death Eaters.

I remark, mentally and with heavy sarcasm, that the future hangs in threads of people who won't have been taught how to actually defend anything properly. The standards fall as they take over the Ministry as the new generation. To make sure Aurors are actually recruited the standard must've been lowered there too. Otherwise none would get through.

It's the arrival of Albus that forces me out of my silent reproach and disgust of the society. He's all cheery, as always, and smells strongly of lemon. Curiously I realise the contrast is the new DADA professor, who seems to smell of excessive garlic. It seems to come from the scarf around his head

I meet said Professor's gaze and I glare at him to make sure he knows he is unwanted. He squirms and looks away.

It's a basic fact that all _Non-humans_ are restricted and kept a close watch of. Centaurs, werewolves, Vampires and whatnot have a department at the Ministry to themselves. There is really no need to run around with garlic and needlessly upset those people who are unaware of the regulations. Unless you're unaware yourself of said regulations and as such you would have no place as a DADA Professor.

My dislike towards the man intensifies; and towards Albus.

Albus closes the meeting and the prattle continues about the Golden Boy and his upcoming house. The boy is unlikely to land in my house and as such I have no place to discuss him. Not that my remarks would have been welcome, anyway.

I spend the rest of the day in my lab, creating safety-stocks for the infirmary and cleaning up in my ingredients. I want to have a drink, but I know I won't stop at just one and I _know_ that it's a pain to have hangovers on the first day of teaching. It's not something I am willing to try again. But, on the other hand, I have to admit it really gave a big notch up to my reputation as a bastard. The first-years, that year, were never the same again.

I smirk at the memory and realise it's almost time for the students to arrive.

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	2. The Sorting

**NOTE: **To make a few points clear:

1) Harry and Snape will **NOT** enter any relationship with anyone through this story. This is NOT a story about love.

2) I use Snape's POV because he's good at seeing things before others.

3) Snape and Harry will **not** become friends. They will **not** have a partnership of any kind (love, mentor, etc.)

4) Snape is NOT cuddling towards anyone. He might like a few people, which makes him _less_ of a bastard towards them.

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**Chapter two – The Sorting**

The children slip in and take their places at the tables. I watch the Slytherins discreetly, to see if any of them seem altered in ways they should not.

I am not a nice man, not evil as such, just unpleasant. But it doesn't mean that I hate the students or my house, contrary to popular belief. Dumbledore wouldn't have made me Head of House if I hated the children in there.

Most of the students in Slytherin know it as well. They know I am protecting them, to a certain extent. My reasons varies, depending on my mood, but the basic feeling, I think, is because no one else likes them. Everyone seems to assume Slytherins are evil people and cheaters.

I believe if you call someone a dog sooner or later they'll believe it.

Nevertheless, I know, for a fact, that evil people springs from other houses as well. _They_ just claim they do it for more _noble_ reasons.

Self-righteous bastards.

Doing it to keep your family safe seems like a good enough reason for a Ravenclaw, but for a Slytherin it's a lie. There haven't been any _truly_ evil people throughout history that were from Gryffindor, but that's because they have such good excuses. Bravery.

I hate them all, I really do.

Professor McGonagall enters, finally and dramatically, with little children trailing anxiously behind her. They seem, to me, to be smaller than I remember. As always I wonder if I were ever that small. I find it hard to conceive and I hear, nearby, one of my colleagues voicing my thoughts.

I watch Draco being sorted into Slytherin. I am pleased. My ties with the Malfoy family were upheld in the pretence of us being _reformed_ and that we had to, sort of, stick together through the mess. I never really liked them, as such, but I found them to be decent company now and then and a kind of friends that you just have and meet with, mostly out of boredom.

I know Draco looks up to his father a great deal, and while I applaud Lucius for managing to stay out of Azkaban _and_ stay popular at the ministry, I know Draco needs more. I am close enough to the boy to want more for him. Want him to think for himself. I'd like for him to be able to have the capacity to choose side for himself when the time comes. I never had anyone to guide me and I think it's important that he learns to think for himself.

Lest he ends up with two masters; I glare briefly in the direction of Dumbledore before my reverie is broken.

_Harry Potter_ The hall starts whispering about the boy and I glare at the boy in question. I almost gape. The boy, I stress mentally, is smaller than the other children arriving. His hair is exactly like James's. He moves with uncertain steps, he's scrawny looking and sits of the stool almost rigid in fear. There's an altogether unexceptional air about the boy and I almost question if he really did get rid of the Dark Lord.

_SLYTHERIN_

That's can't be right.

I look to see if I missed something while my internal dialogue was gushing away. No, it's still the Potter boy, I see, as he removes the hat. The hall is silent and I note Professor McGonagall have enough sense to send the boy in the direction of the Slytherin table. I note Professor Dumbledore doesn't even applaud, like he'd usually do to remove this heavy atmosphere there's currently suppressing the Hall, and McGonagall tentatively moves onwards to the next child.

I stare at the child, several students does as well. He stares back at me, feeling my intense gaze, and he lock eyes. His eyes, Lily's eyes, I notice with a mental slab, are staring back at me. His squints as me, suddenly, and raises his hand to his face. I sneer at him and his mocking behaviour. The boy looked pained, as if I had brought pain upon him. _Stupid boy_.

Albus is looking thoughtful, I notice, as dinner is concluded. He makes a few remarks and the hall is emptied. The professors, those who are not Head of House, go to the staffroom to discuss the events, no doubt, leaving the rest of us to tend with the new students. I ponder what has happened and wonder if this is some kind of strange joke or an alternative universe. I am half-expecting the Potter brat to yell "gotcha" and then proclaim the he originally belong with the Gryffindors. I've learned not to underestimate Potters, so I expect anything from the little bugger.

The Slytherin common room have calmed considerably when I enter. Flint, the Head Boy, seem to have given whatever information needed to be given before I enter. I look at each of them. Draco is in the front, clear awe in his eyes and Potter, I note, is on the sideline, watching through locks of his hair.

"You will find that the other houses are not as friendly towards you as they are towards each other," I inform. Most of them know it already, having families from Slytherin. But there's always a few who either doesn't believe it or haven't been warned. "I expect you to obey the rules, use your fellow house mates, or if necessary, me, if there's problems," my gaze slides to Potter. He doesn't move, but stand still, with his head bowed, probably asleep.

_How dare he fall asleep now?_ I glare at him.

"Mr. Potter," I snap and the boy looks up immediately, his eyes settle on mine. "While you may be _The Boy Who Lived_ you will find that your status won't grant you anything within these walls. Here we are equals and you will pay attention or I will give you detention till you graduate!" The boy flushes and nods and I tap my foot impatiently. _The nerve of the boy_ "You will reply with a 'Yes, Sir/Professor', is that understood?" I snap and he managed a feeble attempt at 'yes, sir'. I nearly growl at him, but it's getting late and they need to understand.

"As I just informed _Potter_ in Slytherin you're equal and you will stand together. Never forget your manners, or," I glare at the boy, "acquire some if you don't have any and don't forget them then." It's almost cruel, but I feel a great relief in putting the boy in his place. The blush staining his cheeks shows his embarrassment and I hope, for his future, he won't show that famous attitude again.

I nod at them all and inform them that should they need anything they should go to the Head Boy or come to me. I know they won't come to me, but to Flint instead, who in turn, comes to me for advice.

I spend the rest of my evening angrily wondering how the boy dared to show such kind of behaviour. Perhaps, I ponder, he knows about my past with his parents and this was his way of showing?

To hell with keeping sober on the first day of teaching, I decide, as I toss down some scotch.

***

The student are all inside and sitting by their desks when I arrive. I am almost grateful for not having to yell at their lack of manners, for I have a massive headache due to the first day back and my drinking the night before. I didn't fall asleep until early this morning, so I am lacking sleep as well. Not a nice combination and several students have already felt the effects. I wonder briefly why I was so dumb not to brew a sobering potion. While it wouldn't have taken the entire effects of my drinking it would have definitely helped and eased the passing of the first day.

I stand in front of them and give my customary speech. They seem wary and uncertain, but my eyes land on Potter, who, once more, isn't paying attention, but is making drawings or whatnot on a piece of paper. I forget which house he is in and I stride forward to stand in his line of view.

"Potter," I bark and the boy looks up, surprised. I proceed to lecture him about manners, making the Gryffindors snicker. I am not even caring that my own house snickers as well. I tell myself that it's a learning experience for them and that Slytherin will stand united in keeping Potter on earth instead of the sky where he thinks he belongs.

He looks at me with an impassive expression and I snap at him, taking 5 points from Slytherin, loath I am to it. The little bugger looks unaffected by my scold and I briefly consider Legilimens on him to see what goes on in his mind, but I cannot establish a contact as his hair falls into his eyes constantly and he seems to be avoiding looking into my eyes.

"Stay after class, Potter," I tell him as the class ends. The boy is still in his seat and I sneer at him, motioning for him to get up and moving to my desk. His manners are really deplorable and I proceed to inform him.

"Your family, I am sure, must be shocked by your lack of manners," I continue, somewhat sarcastic. He makes a face briefly and I raise an eyebrow. They do not care? Obviously he's on a very slack leash. I tell him that too and I am rewarded with another blush. I smirk at him; it seems his manners are the right place to strike at.

"I'm sorry... sir," he mumble, almost forgetting the title.

"Speak up, boy! Or do you need me to find you a book on proper manners from the library?" I ask with heavy sarcasm to ensure he understands. The boy visibly collects himself and tries again. It sounds better and a little truer this time and I nod, not bothering to spend more time on him than I have. I tell him so and send him off to his next class, not bothering to write a note for the professor.

I am astounded by his manners, but not surprised. This is what happens to overindulgent children. Clearly the boy has had a too lenient childhood; his manners are a clear demonstration of that. I sigh, forcing myself onto other thoughts than him.

***

By the time dinner arrive I am rewarded at seeing Potter sitting straight, with the exception of his head down. I watch him closely. He seems to be following the example of his peers, but he is not eating. _Probably thinks the food is unworthy of him_, I assume. House-elves slave away for the students and _he_ doesn't approve. I glare at him angrily, but is cut short by the Headmaster asking me to join him in his office after dinner. I am too caught up in my internal rant to focus on a proper reply, so I cut it short with a nod and resume watching the Slytherins inconspicuously.

Draco Malfoy seems to already dominate the first-years. I applaud him mentally. He can be a good influence on them when the time comes. It also makes me realise I will have to be more careful with him, though.

They're laughing at something, except for Potter, who considers himself above their humour, probably.

I leave my plate unfinished and move towards the Headmaster's office. All too soon I find myself sitting in a chair with the Headmaster politely offering tea and sweets. I decline.

"How has your day been?" His voice is kind and polite and I reply equally. I consider my answer and I slowly realise he meant Potter. _Of course_. "And young Harry?" I don't bother questioning the familiarity Albus has with the boy for him to use his given name so easily.

"Well." I reply. Albus continue to look at me, awaiting a more elaborate answer, but I have little to give him. I relent, though, and relate what little there is. It isn't much, nor important, just a little something about his manners and how I expected it.

"I am worried," Albus says, eventually, and I risk the chance to roll my eyes. He smiles kindly, but I know what he means.

"No one in my house will hurt him," I assure him. I promise to speak with Flint, the Head Boy, to ensure that no one is interested in the little boy and if they are he will see to them leaving the boy alone. The Headmaster is pleased with my solution and I am allowed to leave. _Special treatment_ I growl to myself and go in search of Flint. I locate him quickly in the common room, studying with his study group.

The first-years are studying as well, except Potter, of course, being far too busy and important, probably, to bother. I growl mentally and call for Flint. We trek back to my office, where I offer a chair for him. He sits and I explain.

"The _Golden Boy_ is under observation," I begin with heavy disgust and Flint's eyes glitter in amusement. "I am aware there a numerous students, children of supporters of the Dark Lord..." I trail off, not needing to say more. Flint understands. The brute of a boy is perceptive enough, despite his methods and his appearance being harsh. I appreciate it and am pleased for having chosen him as a Head Boy.

"I promise to talk to people, Professor. We'll leave the kid alone," He promises and I nod. If the kid is left alone Dumbledore will leave me alone. It'll work out in the end.

"Find a proper book on decorum for him," I mention, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "I cannot have him spoil the image of Slytherin with his manners," again Flint grins and nods. I wave him off and ask him to send Draco Malfoy to me when he reaches the common room.

A few minutes later Draco enters. I ask about the boy, but Draco informs that the others were unwilling to have him in the study group. I make a side-comment about Potter probably not meeting up was he expected to anyway and Draco shrugs.

I tell Draco to leave the boy alone as it means less chaos. He agrees and will inform the other first-years.

I am proud of my accomplishment. All of my Slytherins seem to be on their best behaviour regarding the little _Boy Wonder_. That the other first-years don't want him in their study group doesn't worry me. The boy probably haven't showed interest and I can't be bothered to help him make friends if he is so disinclined to do so himself. It's better if they stay clear of each other's path, I decide, and relate the information to Dumbledore. He agrees and seems less worried and a bit younger. I am surprised at how much strain Potter's placement in Slytherin has put on him.

***

I wake up at night, feeling somewhat confused. I've had a nightmare, but it's nothing out of the customary. But that's not what woke me. I glance to my side where I have a stone laying on the bedside table. It's blue. Someone has breached the Slytherin wards.

I sigh; a student out of bed. I rarely experience a student out of bed, but it happens. I gather my robes and tend to the student. I am surprised _or not_ to run into Potter.

"Potter!" I startle the boy, making him drop whatever he's holding in his hands. I notice a bun drop to the floor. _Eating at night?_ I sigh, angrily. "What are you doing outside the house in the night?" I question. The boy looks at me so uncertain and worried, his green eyes moving around the hall, anxiously.

"I'm sorry... sir... I was hungry..." He replies, voice low and he blushes wildly.

"I will not fall for you acting," I inform him. He cannot get me around his finger like he has everyone else; bend to his will. I will not be swayed and his pitiful attempt at embarrassment won't work either. Despite, I tell myself, he's doing a good job at it.

"S-Sorry, Sir?" He questions and I roll my eyes visibly. _Such a dumb little kid_. It does make me happier, though, to see that the famous Potter attitude isn't working or _blossoming_ in Slytherin.

"I will not have you leave the Slytherin house after curfew. You may enter the common room at will, but you will not leave the house," I inform, sneering. He looks uncomfortable and small. He's very skinny, even for a first-year, I notice. "You have 3 meals at day to ensure you're satisfied, eat at them," I growl. I make a passing comment about the food not looking good enough for him, since I saw he didn't eat dinner, but it's wasted on him. All he does is look at me with his great, green eyes.

"Yes, sir," He replies wanly and almost inaudible.

"Speak up," I inform him, again, impatiently. He boy almost looks as if he's about to cry, as if he did something wrong. I almost applaud him for this act. It would certainly work on several of the other Head of Houses, but not me. "I do hope," I continue, before he manages to speak up, "that you're not using this pathetic behaviour on the rest of the professors," I glare at him and he takes a step back, uncomfortable, shaking his head wildly, but I see that his eyes are uncertain. _Lying, little cretin_.

He looks as if he's about to burst out crying and I make an involuntary disgusted face. He pales.

"I'm sorry... Snivell..." He doesn't get farther with his speech before he's against the wall. I hardly realise I have moved, shoved against him. He's shocked and the rest of his food drop from his hands. I have an almost lethal grip on his front robes, making him gasp for air.

_He knows about my past with his parents_ it is all running through my head. _He was going to call me..._ I shove myself into his eyes, scanning the surface and I realise his intent.

"Go!" I breathe, shocked. The boy cannot move, he's still in my clutches. I release him feebly and watch him scramble for the Slytherin house, not even bothering with the food he's been collecting this night. I fall to the ground, shocked and appalled and uncertain of what have transpired.

'_Snivelling and whining is not acceptable, I know...' _were the words running through Potter's head. Not Snivillus. I made a mistake and I seek cover in my private quarters. I have no choice but to drink it away. I try not to allow myself to dwell on what transpired in the hallway, what I nearly did to him. I want to tell myself that I haven't been too unreasonable. The boy will cause trouble, eventually, anyway, and this might've put him in his place. Retaliation before the act, I say.

But it's not working. I know I made a mistake.

***

Lots of coffee this morning. My colleagues are so _kind_ to ask to it, but I sneer at them. My plan worked. The hangover I am suffering keeps me from dwelling on last night. I cannot, however, get away from the thoughts when I see him enter. It is 15 minutes till the first lesson and I watch as he takes a seat. His back in straight and for once his head isn't bended, but straight ahead. I cannot see his face, as he is sitting with his back to me, so I cannot discern the emotion in there. A few other Slytherins are left there, but no one bother him, as they should. I feel a pat on my shoulder and I look to see Dumbledore. He, too, has noticed the boy is left _safely_ alone.

In retrospect I might realise that this behaviour is the beginning for something more dreadful, but as it is I am not in the future, but in the present, and with a huge aching in my head and embarrassed by the night I opt to leave the boy to his own devices, though without making a fool of his peers.

It seems to working. In the present.

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	3. Chapter 3

Hello

Another chapter is up.

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**Chapter 3**

The days pass comfortably and I don't encounter Potter again before Thursday in the first potions class for the first-years. I see him in the class, but the clutching feeling in my stomach prevents me from saying anything; in class and out of it. I should apologise, but I cannot seem to make myself do it and as such I let him leave with his peers. The boy has probably forgotten about the incident anyway.

I let the next class work by themselves, as I go through my schedule and a few books, wondering if I should add some different potions to the homework assignment.

*******

I wake up, yet again, from another troubled night. I note it's, luckily, only because of dreams and not because of someone out of the house. I almost consider going to check in anyone's in the common room, but the chance of meeting anyone, Potter, for example, is too forbidding; I am not ready to meet him. Besides, I tell myself, the boy is fine. It's not my business what the students do outside of their beds at night except if they leave the House.

*******

By Friday I have somewhat managed to forget the _incident_ and I call upon Flint to report to me. Albus have questioned about the _boy_, and, truthfully, I am a little curious as well. I am sure the boy isn't marked for life by the incident, but better be safe. If he goes down so will I.

"Professor," Flint greets me politely and stands in front of my desk. I motion for him to sit down and he slips into the chair easily.

"How are the new first-years coming along? Anyone need to be calmed?" I have the draughts nearby and I know it works better on the first years than the Dreamless Sleep potion, as those are meant for a different purpose. Flint shakes his head easily, though.

"No, Sir, no one seems to be homesick," he replies politely. I enquire about the rest of the house, but there seem to be no problems. "The upper classes have been a little harsh on Potter, though," he adds, "But I've told them to stop and they've listened." I frown and beckon him to elaborate. He comply, "well, sir," he continue, "they denied him food in the beginning at the meals," he grins at me cheekily, but I refrain from rolling my eyes. It seems to explain what Potter what doing out of bounds the first night. _I will not think of that!_ I tell myself.

"And?" I implore.

"The uppers are leaving him alone. There are a few cruel remarks here and there, but Potter doesn't seem to be into baiting." _Well, at least that's something_. Flint shrugs, uncertain. "There haven't been any fights, or anything, nor are the other Slytherins inclined to begin one. They leave the kid alone, mostly, and I've told them to watch their mouths," I am pleased with this. _A few caustic remarks have never hurt anyone_, I tell myself.

"How are the first-years? Are they getting along?" I question. He nods.

"Yes, Sir," He replies, at first. "The girls are... girls," He doesn't go deeper into that, but I know what he means. They find comfort in each other should they need it. "The boys seem to be doing okay. It is primary Draco with Vincent and Gregory," _Ahh, yes... The boy has already acquired the two loons as his 'bodyguards'_.

"Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott is a pair, too," Flint continues, leaving out Potter. I raise an eyebrow and he unwillingly continues "Potter is not really around," he explains. "The others leave him alone and he leaves them alone." I nod thoughtfully. I have only been through one essay of Potter as of yet. It was awful. The writing was terrible and the content lacking. I realise, studying alone, might make people less able to think outside the box. _Great, and so it befalls me to inform the brat how to do things properly_. I wave Flint out and let myself ponder about it.

My dislike for the boy is growing. He seems to be taking up so much time with his _special needs_. I realise they don't use quills in the muggle world, but still... isn't it common sense to find a book about it?

I spot the assignment of Monday's class on the table and I find him. I mark it quickly, red dots everywhere, and write a lengthy comment to him about learning to use the library properly since he apparently cannot get along well enough with his house mates to join their study group. It's a little harsh. It's not entirely his fault what happened when he was 1, and I am grateful – in a way -, but I cannot help myself making sure the brat won't walk around as a copy of his damn father.

I add a name of a book of decorum, for extra measures. I know Flint has already been there, but this book is for the old days and I am sure, if he uses it, he cannot do much wrong. _Though, with his father he'll probably end up doing something stupid anyway_.

*******

The paper is delivered at the next chance and I watch the boy blush and glare at me angrily. I glare back and he lowers his gaze. _He cannot really think he can take me on, does he?_

And so time seems to pass. The boy, for what it's worth, is amendable and seems to have read the book of decorum. I've only seen it at breakfast, where he is sitting upright, a few times. Mostly he comes in by the time I leave and most of the other professors leave as well.

I hear from some of the other Professors, though, that his manners are impeccable, and I am pleased to be the reason for that.

I don't see him at lunch and I assume he is working on essays and whatnot. Those who asks get that reply and comment, as usual, of how much alike he and his mother is. She studied hard as well, after all. I don't bother to reply. From what I've seen only a handful of Lily went into her son; the rest is through and through James.

Dinners are the same as breakfast. The boy arrives late, but I hardly notice as I am on my way to leave when he comes in.

*******

Flint mentions that the boy doesn't eat at breakfast or dinner, though. Having sit through an entire dinner period, waiting for Potter to arrive only 15 minutes before dinner is finished, I realise it's true. The boy holds himself well, his head up, but his plate is empty. It's a little worrying, though, and I, reluctantly, call for him to stay after class.

I am surprised when the boy leaves his desk and takes a stand in front my desk, face impassive and stance held high. The books on decorum have indeed paid off. I don't tell him, though.

"Mr. Potter," I drawl and I stare at him in order to perceive any change. He narrows his eyes momentarily, but I don't get the impression that it's in an impertinent way. Nevertheless, I give him detention with Filch for his cheek. He resumes his passive stance and I continue. "Mr. Flint has been so kind to enlighten me that you do not eat at dinner or breakfast. Or lunch, for that matter..." The boy wavers for a moment and I sneer at him. "This is not acceptable. I am not your nanny and you will eat or be sent to school nurse for nutrition potions!" I tell him severely and point out who makes the potions. He visibly flinches.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he replies politely and I note that he's taken my earlier lectures about proper answering to heart. "I have eaten, Sir. I just eat at other times. Flint said I had to attend the meals, out of respect, so I do despite having eaten," it's almost a rush and I realise it's the longest sentence I've heard him say. It bothers me that I cannot detect much besides anxiety in his voice; there's no emotion to find in him. I have the chance to skim the surface of his mind and I see that he is true to his word. He does eat.

"Very well," I reply. I will not be bothered by the child anymore today. The child is healthy and obviously able to look after himself and ensure that he gets food. His work is not wholly unsatisfactory after I corrected one of his first essays, so I have little to complain about. I consider it, nevertheless, but I cannot find anything that would be fair enough, but I do try. I wave the boy out, pleased to be done with it, and resume grading.

*******

The Headmaster is pleased as well. And when the Headmaster is pleased my life is a little easier to bear. The other professors inform that the boy is doing better in class. I cannot help but to claim it is my doing, smugly, for it is. They're impressed.

*******

The air is heavy with anticipation; I can feel it in my entire body. I've spoken to Dumbledore about the stone, but he assures me it's well guarded.

I am uncertain though, but I do not persist.

*******

Halloween comes around and I find myself more calm. The children are happy and when they're happy they don't bother me. I note that Potter is there, sitting straight in his seat and unmoving. I have a fleeting thought about him looking like a dummy; he's there, but not really there mentally.

The evening is quiet and I try to enjoy some of the food in piece. It bothers me, though, how everything has to be made of pumpkin on this day. Pumpkin juice is an everyday thing, but then today there's pie, apple-shapes, pear-shapes, salad and pumpkin-stuffed turkey and whatnot. It's a little too much, so I try to get the elves to make me a side-dish with some reasonable food on it.

"TROLL!" A voice breaks the silence. I recognise it immediately. I had wondered where the man was, but having checked to Fluffy I was secure in my knowledge that he wasn't near the stone.

"Thought you ought to know..." The Professor collapse and panic breaks out. Once more I found myself damning the pitiful excuse of a DADA Teacher. One would think he could at least handle a little troll! Or at least not panic!

"SILENCE!" Albus calls for calm and the hall fall silent. "Everybody please stay calm," he asks and I note people take their seats. I briefly make a note to tell the Slytherins to be more alert and stay calm in situations such as these. Not that I assume they'll need it, but for a future reference I know that staying calm allows a more sober view of things and allows people to act accordingly.

The prefects and Head Boys/Girls are asked to attend to the students and lead them back to the dorms.

What a brilliant idea, I muse to myself. Let's lead the children out into the castle with a huge troll walking about. I follow the Slytherins, though, as they are heading to the dungeons, where, supposedly, the troll resides. Quickly I get the children ushered into the common room before taking off for the 3rd floor. I intercept Quirrel there.

"Quirrel," I call, not bothering with proper decorum. He spins around to face me, surprised. "It's not your night to guard the halls," I point out. The fool begins to stutter and looks even more pathetic than usual. I cannot comprehend how such an idiot could even get the stone, but I've been a spy for too long to underestimate people regardless of how they look. My gut tells me he's _wrong_.

"I-I was j-just c-check-checking on the ... t-the –ss-stone!" He replies. His voice is full with stuttering, more so than usual, and he looks positively frightened. I am uncertain if it's an act or not, but I vow to keep a better eye on him.

"How _thoughtful _of you," I inform him. "But it's safe," I gesture for him to leave and let him see as I throw a few spells to see if anything is out of ordinary with this corridor. Everything seems to be fine.

I follow Quirrel downward and I run into Minerva. We hear a loud crash nearby and all hurry towards it.

"Mr. Potter!" Minerva screech and I mentally wince at it. And there is, indeed, Potter. I had seen him at the beginning of the feast. He must've slipped away when the other Slytherins went to the dorm. So typical Potters.

"Mr. Potter," I say, noting for the first time Granger, a small bushy haired child behind Potter. "When the Headmaster tells you to go to your dorm that does not mean you can slink away and go wandering on your own," I don't bother to point out that he took out a fully grown troll, it's not the point. Minerva backs me up, but the boy seems uncertain. I call for his answer.

"I didn't know," he explains and I visibly roll my eye at his disgusting attempt to lie. I assign him detention and ignore Minerva's reproachful look. "I mean," he continues after my intervening, "I left early," now that he mention it I think I remember him leaving. "I didn't know there was a- a troll," he looks down upon the troll and fall silent.

"He was trying to help me, Sir," Granger speaks up. Her voice is shaky, but determined. "Harry saw the troll enter the bathroom after me..."

"And you didn't deem it worthy of the attention of a Professor?" Both Minerva and I ask at the same time, though with different words. The point is the same.

"There wasn't time!" The girl almost yells, frustrated and close to tears. "There... it... there wasn't time. He tried to get it away from me. I was stuck in here... He tried to lure it out at first... but it didn't work and he used a spell" I would dock points, but the girl is obviously in shock. Minerva sees it as well.

"Miss Granger," Minerva calls and the girls falls silent "go to the Infirmary and get a calming draught. You too, Mr Potter," she looks at Harry curiously, but he doesn't respond to her gaze, but follow the Granger girl. I look at the troll, it's stunned and wrapped in ropes.

"10 points to Gryffindor and Slytherin," Minerva says when the children are gone. I look at her, but I perceive her point. Granger is ahead of her peers and Potter... well, I haven't seen anything remarkable from his side, so the points are hardly well-earned on his side. I don't correct her, though.

*******

_STUPID DOG! Stupid idiots! Who the hell let's a three-headed dog into a school? Yes, it bloody well may guard something, but it's really NOT worth anyone's lives to keep it at a bloody school! What happened to the grounds or the forbidden forest?!_

My leg is hurting like hell. The dog bit me! I am lucky to be alive. Damn this constant insecurity about the Dark Lord. Can't he just die properly?

I am walking into the dungeons weakly when I run into Potter. He looks startled and notice how I walk right away. The blood has soaked through the bandage and consequently through my pants, creating darker spots. I growl at him angrily and he slips away, his face not revealing anything.

*******

The first match between Slytherin and Gryffindor, I am pleased to see, is in our favour. I am by the stands when I am assaulted by Minerva, beckoning me to her side. Miss Johnson, a girl from Gryffindor, looks panicked.

"Severus!" Minerva whispers anxiously, "Miss Johnson found Mr. Potter near the library," a strange feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Something has happened. Before I know it Dumbledore has joined us and we all, inconspicuously as possible, leave the stands. Miss Johnson is prattling away, frustrated and teary. I manage to collect that she has apparently found Harry Potter and he was lying unconscious and covered in blood near the library. My first thought is wonder why he wasn't cheering for his team, but I quickly discard it. The boy hasn't been welcomed properly into the house and he's mostly by himself. I shouldn't have expected anything.

Despite my inner reproach of him and I am anxious nevertheless. I can feel Albus's worry and if he's worried I should be so too. I know there's still unfinished business between the boy and the Dark Lord. It wouldn't do to lose him before he can finish it.

We enter the hospital wing and find Madam Pompfrey by a bed near the other end. She makes a hand gesture for us to stay where we are and we follow her orders. A few seconds later she's done and she greets Johnson first with a calming draught and asks her to go to bed. She complies.

"What happened?" Albus immediately asks when Johnson has left.

"Well..." Madam Pompfrey looks towards Potter's concealed bed briefly before returning her gaze to us. "I don't know. He was obviously attacked," she suddenly looks up sharply at the Headmaster. "He was close to dying," she informs. I gasp in shock and her fierce gaze turn to me.

"I doubt any from my house did it!" I snap at her, knowing what she accuses me for. Albus frowns and shakes his head.

"We need to find whoever did this. I trust you, Severus, to be thorough in your search," I nod only once at his command, but he knows I will be thorough. Despite it being Potter he's still in Slytherin and still a student. He should be safe here. I point out that it's not only Slytherins who dislike him, but other houses as well. They've put him in a box after he was sorted into Slytherin. Albus agrees and Minerva is asked to be just at thorough.

Madam Pompfrey continues to inform us what spells were placed on the boy. Apparently Johnson's arrival scared the person off. Today it would be difficult to find out who did it. While everyone was at the stands people have been too cheery to actually notice anything amiss. Speaking of the game... I hear a cheer distantly and I wonder who won. I catch Minerva's eye and she wonders as well. Briefly Harry Potter is out of my mind and all of us resume our day.

I gather the students in the common room to make the announcement. Carefully I check their expressions, but they're all equally shocked, but not entirely surprised. I scan a few of the students' minds superficially and find nothing. They may not like the boy, but I find no interest in acting upon it. I make a few private sessions with Flint, Draco and a few others I know are held high within the House. I am secure that they will keep their eyes and ears open for anything suspicious.

I make my way to the hospital wing to see if the brat is awake. On my way I meet Quirrel. He seems uncertain and flustered; afraid. I make a caustic remark, asking if his pillow scared him this morning or a painting. The man is really not cut out for this job. He doesn't answer, but merely looks at me with panic. I move onwards.

Potter is awake and being treated by Pompfrey when I get there. He's quiet and accepting. I stand at the end of his bed and let the healer finish with him. He doesn't acknowledge my presence, but I don't care.

"Potter, do you remember anything?" I cut straight to the point. No point for needless words when I am not interested in coddling him. His family can do that and I am sure they will as soon as he informs them of the incident. He shakes his head and, upon seeing my displeasure, voices his doubts aloud.

"What _do_ you remember?" I am bothered by the lack of information from his side. Doesn't he see anything around him?

"I was in the library when I realised I had forgotten my notebook in the dorm," he explains, mapping the events as I asked him to. "Just before I got back to the library I heard someone behind me. I didn't get a chance to see who it was," he falls silent for a moment. "Then I don't remember more." I look at him, a little more frustrated by the lack of useful information. Albus arrive and he takes over, asking much the same as I. The answers don't change and the boy seems to grow weary and tired. He is dosed with a dreamless sleep potion before falling asleep. The Headmaster wards the wing and then calls for me to join him in the staffroom for an emergency meeting.

* * *

Someone will undoubtly question this, but Harry will not date Hermione nor will he date Ginny. Or any male. The encounter with Granger was a single happening. They're not plotting in the library or becoming friends.

**Reviewing lets me know my work is appreciated. Please review.**


	4. Chapter 4

Hullo

I was asked if Harry would get a friend and he won't.

I realise I have to tell you some details about Harry to understand fully, so here we go:

Harry is basically ignored by his housemates. If they do talk to him it's teasing.

He doesn't have friends as the other houses are a little uncertain about him now that he's in _the evil house_.

People generally have the idea that Harry can do anything and is oh so good and grand, so they overestimate him and his need for socialising and so he falls behind, so to speak.

I am considering making a few chapters of Harry's POV so you can have some insight... but... who knows.

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**Chapter 4**

"No one knows anything," Minerva exclaims, throwing her hands in the airs as symbol of her frustrations. No one says much; there's little to say. I note Quirrel is withdrawn, head bend downward and he stares at his own fidgeting hands. Someone nudges me and I look up. I realise Minerva is looking at me and I frown at her. Once more I state that none of the Slytherins did it and their relationship to the boy passive and not aggressive. She doesn't entirely believe me, but Albus does.

The meeting ends with little to conclude, except to ensure better wards at Hogwarts and Albus tells me to arrange times for the boy to contact me throughout the day to show he is safe. It's a feeble attempt, but perhaps it'll help. I look over at the DADA Professor and wonder. It all seems as a too big coincidence, the stone, Potter, the strange and stuttering DADA Professor... I've lived long enough to know that things are rarely a coincidence when you mix certain ingredients.

I enter the hospital wing just after dinner to deliver the _good news_ to Potter. While I have no intentions of his death and I am still bothered by having to deal with more of him than I already am. He's a constant reminder of a past that I want to desperately forget. _Never mind that now_, I grumble to myself.

Potter is awake when I enter. Pompfrey, it seems, has just tended him and he looks much better than earlier. I suspect he will soon be released. I regard him for a few moments and he regards me in return. The passive pretence he usually wears is gone and he looks tired and worried. There's a constant crease of his forehead, making him look like his father when thinking about something. I try not to grind my teeth as I open my mouth to speak.

"You will report to me everyday throughout the day," I tell him and his face falls for an instant before showing a second of dead acceptance. I snarl at him and inform him that I don't have to take this role upon me, but he should be grateful I am. He apologises, shocked, and looks pathetic.

We agree that he will attend breakfast, lunch and dinner all the way through, not arriving 15 minutes before it closes, and also I will meet him in the common room approx. Two hours after dinner.

He accepts the terms, seeming a little grateful that he won't have to see me in person except than one time in the evening. I can relate.

"Sir?" He calls before I leave the hospital. I turn to him, almost resigned. "Madam Pompfrey said I should ask you, my Head of House..." he continues, feebly, "if there's a way to protect myself against it happening again?" I consider his question. It's a valid point and the boy _will_ have to protect himself. If he is supposed to fight the Dark Lord later on he might as well start practicing now. I inform him that I will write a list for him to look at. He looks at me gratefully and I nod to him in parting.

*******

It turns out I am not the only one the brat has asked regarding self-defence. Minerva informs that the boy has asked her and so do Flitwick and Quirrel. I'm surprised when Albus rejects the idea of teaching the boy to defend his person, but relents when Minerva glowers. He allows us to write down books we consider relevant and give it to him, but not to strain him.

*******

I watch him at breakfast, lunch and dinner to see if he shows up. He does, I am pleased to see. I had, somewhat, expected him to not show. There's already been so much trouble with him and I feel like I am neglecting my other Slytherin students due to the brat. Typical for a Potter to steal all the attention; I tell myself to assign a meeting with Draco to hear how he's doing. His work is okay, but not good enough. He relies too much on the Malfoy attitude. I will have to remind him to use his mind more.

I take my, now customary, round through the dungeons, but spy nothing in particular, and then proceed to the common room. Potter is there, of course, knowing it is time for me to see if he's well. He meets my gaze patiently and I sneer at him. He's by the corner of the room, reading in a big book by himself. Several other books stick out of his bag and I spy a book about proper decorum and writing skills. It explains why his writing has improved. At least he's doing something about it, I'm pleased to see, but I don't let him know.

I move onwards and check on the other students, but everyone seems to be doing well enough and so I return to my quarters to study a bit to myself. I have ideas that need to be looked into.

*******

There are no new attacks on Potter, luckily, leaving me free to worry about my other students as well as my suspicions about Quirrel. Potter, in turn, seems to be avoiding me as much as possible and I try not to wonder about what the child is concocting now. I doubt the child can stand not being seen all the time, so I assume that he'll figure out something to draw attention to his self.

I've asked Draco to come by when he got the time and I am _pleased_ to see him take me up on the offer.

"Hello," Draco enters my office and I wave for him to take a seat, ignoring his lack of proper title.

"How are you?" I question and listen to him talk about school, teachers, children and whatnot; his father as well. The boy is going home this Christmas. They're apparently going to France; I shouldn't be surprised, though. Once every year they go to France; it's been a while since they were there last and it makes me wonder what changed.

Draco seems to be bothered by something, but doesn't seem to want to voice it aloud. I prod a little more and he confesses that he's worried about Potter. I groan in resignation. Does everything have to be about _that_ boy?

"It's just that he's always studying and I study as well, but I think _he_ gets better grades than me," Draco explains with a whine. The Malfoy attitude shines through and I roll my eyes mentally.

"Draco, Potter is a lonely, little boy. He got nothing else to do. You exceed in so much else," I inform him and the boy glows. Potter studies all the time, even at breakfast, lunch and dinner, which really pisses me off, but I am loath to talk to the boy more than I already have. I just need to stay clear of him and then I can be happy. Besides, the boy is _studying_, not reading mindless books. I tell Draco to use his good breeding and be a proper Slytherin instead of a jealous boy. Competing against someone like _Potter_ is silly, since Draco can do so much better. I tell him that, too.

Draco feels much better after the conversation and so do I. It's _just_ Potter; a little harmless boy. He cannot hurt me or bother me, I tell myself. He won't hurt or bother anyone if we leave the child alone. Let him study as he wish and disappear in the shadows.

*******

Dumbledore is anxious about the child. Of course he is. My few weeks of freedom have ended and now everything is about the child again. He's staying at Hogwarts, I'm loath to realise, and Albus worries that Potter is studying too hard. He wants me to inform the child; _naturally_.

I am not in the best of moods when I call the child to my office and that he stands in front of my desk with a perfect stance and a blank expression; I am bothered to be unable to read his expression, but perhaps it is better this way; the merest hint of arrogance and I will give the boy detentions for the rest of the year! This passiveness is good; it keeps him from looking stupid and it doesn't bother me.

"Why are you staying over Christmas?" I ask aloud and a flicker of emotion appears briefly in his eyes. I am positive it was a hint of amusement; he probably thinks it's funny that he can stay and bother me; little nuisance. I decide not to pursue the emotion as I tell myself I am not interested, so I let it be

"I thought of studying, Professor," he replies, dutifully.

"The Headmaster believes you study too much," I reply coldly and am _rewarded_ with some kind of emotion that I couldn't care less about.

"I am not under any kind of stress, Sir," he says. I wonder what _he_ knows about stress. He's a bloody first-year. I scowl at him.

"I think we, the Professors, are better at judging that," I snap and he almost flinches. I smirk at him, feeling a little better by the action.

"Yes, sir," he replies, shocking me. He's being very non-difficult. I stare at him with narrowed eyes, wondering if I should check his mind. His eyes lower to the ground humbly, but I briefly wonder if he knows about Legilimency since he always seems to be avoiding my gaze. I doubt it, though.

"Nevertheless, the Headmaster believes you're better off if you go home," He looks up briefly, seeming to consider the idea. "Surely Potter you're not so _attached_ to the school to be unable to leave?" I sneer mockingly and a strange expression cross his features too briefly to really consider it. My first idea is that it is regret. The boy loves to study so much? I wonder if I should just let him, but I am so disinclined to spend my holiday with _him_. It would mean almost 2 weeks of Potter-freedom.

"I will speak with them," he replies, giving nothing away. I tell him to do it quickly and he leaves after that. I massage my temples, just wishing for easier children. Or children I don't really hate, anyway. So much easier if he wasn't in Slytherin, I decide and wonder why he was sorted into the house in the first place. He's not entirely cunning; I know that from catching him after visiting the kitchen. The boy probably couldn't even lie to save his life anyway.

*******

Potter's family is apparently going to do business over the vacation, something about drills and whatnot, and the boy told me that his family asked him to stay at Hogwarts through the vacation. _Great_. The boy doesn't look sad and I am sure he was probably promised tons of presents to get through it easier. How disgusting to fawn over the child so much. At least I can claim that the boy has learned some decorum from being a Slytherin.

*******

The Christmas vacation sets in and all the Slytherins leaves, I am pleased to note, except Potter, which I am annoyed to accept. I inform him that through the vacation I will only check up to him at mealtime. Between those he can do whatever he wishes, within _boundaries._

*******

"Mr. Potter, looking forward to Christmas?" Albus questions the boy at lunch on one of the first days back. He boy looks up at the Headmaster with almost practised calm. Usually the students are too speechless to reply when the Headmaster focuses on them, but the boy seem to expect it, probably. Albus seem so fond of the child and I wouldn't be surprised if they spend time together for some strange reason. The death of the Potters always seemed to touch Albus more than many others.

"Yes, sir," he replies with a calm voice, his eyes never entirely meeting the Headmasters. I wonder at that briefly, but let it go, assuming he's just shy in the presence of the Headmaster.

"Lots of presents?" The Headmaster continues with a twinkle and the boy smiles almost forcefully. He nods.

"It's going to be a great Christmas," Potter informs and the Headmaster nods at him. I note, briefly, that he didn't answer the question. Minerva looks at the boy with doting eyes and I scowl at her. I hope she won't turn this Christmas into a way for her to bond with the child. He will have no respect for the rules if he's too good friends with his superiors.

*******

"It appears you were right, Albus," Minerva says when the children have left the table. I look enquiringly at the Headmaster, who chuckles.

"Of course, Minerva. They're family, how could I be wrong on this?" He replies and I frown at their conversation. I, and Albus should as well, know that family doesn't equals love. Minerva notices my curious expression and explains how dreadful the muggles had seemed when she had observed them first. She's pleased to have been wrong, since nothing seems out of the ordinary with the boy as such. _Yes_, I note. _Potter has a doting family and everything is great._ I suppress the bitter feeling inside of me.

*******

Apparently Potter is sneaking around at night. I've been loose with the wards through the vacation, since only Potter was there and I couldn't be bothered. Albus informs me of the child's excursions and that he, Potter, has found that blasted mirror. I sigh, pinch the bridge of my nose, and hope that the old coot doesn't expect to me to have a hearty talk about Potter staying away from it.

He also informs me that the boy has received something of his father's as a gift. I know what it is; it's that damn cloak. I glare at the Headmaster, asking him if that was really wise. The Headmaster twinkles at me and says that it's Christmas and we can afford leniency. I doubt him, though. Potter's father would forget whatever rules set were he suddenly treated with leniency or if too much time passed. The brat will do the same if we're too lenient.

I know Albus talked with the boy regarding the mirror and left the issue with the cloak to me. I am loath to speak with the child, but I have to before he thinks he can get away with anything. I catch him after breakfast one day and tell him to follow me to a nearby classroom. No need to drag him with me to the dungeons for this. He seems uncertain, but confidently meets my gaze. He sudden confidence annoys me and I'm sure he's already using that blasted cloak. It has made him cocky.

He's surprised that I know about the cloak and forgets his manners when he asks where it came from. I tell him the Headmaster gave it to him; surely he should have known that?

I'd like to think he's less confident after my exposure of his future plans, but I cannot be sure. I just have to pray to whatever gods there are to keep the child safe lest I be pestered with more visits to the hospital wing and whatnot.

I check his mind briefly to see what he's planning, but he gasps in pain and I retreat, shocked. He looks uncertain and a little angry for a second before proclaiming a headache. I stare after him as he retreats. I wonder if it's a coincidence or if he knew I was entering his mind. I am reluctant to, but I will keep a closer eye on him and see if it was a coincidence or not. I am not sure what else it could be, since the boy isn't studying such art. I know there are no books on it in the library.

*******

I don't run into Potter except at mealtime. He doesn't eat, eating at _different_ times, but when asked to join in he takes an apple and puts it on his table. A little difficult on that point, but Madam Pompfrey assure me (as if I cared) and the Headmaster that he looks healthy and the Headmaster informs that the boy makes his own dish in the kitchen. Elf-food is apparently not good enough, I must assume.

Besides that I note that he only speaks if asked and otherwise keeps to himself. Sometimes, and I suspect the other's feels the same way, I forget he's there after a while. I wonder if he does it on purpose, but after having watched him while the others lose interest I must conclude that the boy is simply not _fascinating_ enough to focus on longer than necessary. I rejoice in that fact. Both his parents were opposite and were attracting people with shocking ease.

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**As always reviewing makes me write. So please review.**


	5. Chapter 5

Hey! Thanks everyone for the wonderful reviews.

I am so happy that you managed to pick up the fact that Snape is blinded by his hatred towards Potter to actually see the boy as who he is.

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**Chapter 5**

The holiday ends with ease. I am surprised that the Potter brat hasn't bothered me at all, but has managed to occupy himself easily. I have no idea what he's been doing, besides from the mirror-incident, and I feel a great relief at not having had to check up on him. As classes resume, and I grow a little more confident at the brat's ability to stay out of trouble, I decide not to resume checking up on him after dinners. Mealtime seems to be enough for both him and me.

***

It is evening, not late, when there's a knock on my door. I call an 'enter' and Draco slips inside and take a seat. I almost smile at the boy and he seems to bask in my interest in him.

"Severus," Draco says, surprising that he's using my given name. He rarely does it, unless he's wants something. I glare at him and raise an eyebrow by his obviousness. His cheeks redden, but he smirks at me nevertheless. _Cheeky brat_, I think, but not coldly.

"Draco?" I mirror, allowing the boy to continue.

"I'm wondering about something," he innocently draws circles with his finger on my desk and I roll my eyes at his pathetic attempt. He laughs at me freely and moves on to the point. "How could Potter defeat the Dark Lord?" I am surprised by the question. I had assumed that, at some point, I would be asked about it, but not this soon. Nevertheless I cannot deny I am pleased by it. It shows some forethought and gives me more time to shape Draco into an independent creature.

"Hmm..." I murmur. I've been asked by it before, but this time I need a more careful answer in order to satisfy Draco. Draco seems to have considered the boy and exclaims his observations.

"He's not _special_," Draco informs and I raise an eyebrow. He shrugs in response, carefree, and I let him loosen his pose in private. "He doesn't even take any bait," I look at him, sternly.

"I asked you to leave him alone," I point out, not entirely angry.

"Yes, well... I am," Draco explains. "Sort of, anyway," he smirks at me and elaborate, "I don't bother him all the time, but you know... a few comments. He doesn't respond at all. Ignore me mostly. If I'm lucky I can make him angry..." the boy falters at my look and quickly amends. "I don't _bother_ him often!" Draco says. "It's just a jibe here and there, like with anyone," I don't bother to point out that Potter isn't everyone, but a Slytherin like himself, but I know it's futile. Potter isn't entirely welcome in Slytherin and they prefer to leave him alone. They should rather than show they don't stand together entirely.

"You should leave him alone," I inform and I decide to point out the other houses will see Slytherin as weak if we cannot at least pretend to stand together. Draco nods and promises not to do it again and then falls back on his original track.

"He keeps to himself, doesn't seem particularly strong. _I_ could beat him in a duel, I'm sure!" I glare at Draco for that comment and he concedes, promising he won't.

"Potter _isn't_ special," I say to Draco. He looks at me curiously. "You said it yourself, Draco. Do you see anything special about him?" I watch as Draco muse about it until he agrees with me. "I am uncertain about admitting it," not really, "but the Dark Lord made a mistake." Draco's eyes widen in shock and I hold up a hand. "Look at Potter," I tell him and he, once more, concede the point.

"Powerful people attain flaws," I say, "when they cross their limit," Draco looks at me uncertain. "The Dark Lord, powerful as he was, was flawed. He... became arrogant. Lost touch with the world, and made a mistake." Draco sees my point and understands. "It's necessary, in order to survive, to keep in touch with the ground," I conclude. I cannot help but add that Draco must use his head in all cases, future Dark Lords or studies. If he doesn't he'll end up bowing for someone who isn't worthy of it; be it a Dark Lord or a stupid boss.

He seems to understand and I hope he will remember or come to me when the time comes for him to choose. I am pleased to hear Draco voice his father's words: 'Malfoys bow to no one'. Perhaps he will remember that when he is asked to bow to the Dark Lord. Hopefully.

***

The Slytherin team is practicing hard for the upcoming matches, striving to reach the cup. We've won the few last year's cup, but this year both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor have decent seekers and we had a fairly new and inexperienced one. Gryffindor even have the infamous twin Weasleys as beater, who, annoyingly, seem to think alike giving them a good chance against everyone else.

Flint, bless the boy, have devised a way to communicate with secret signs. He isn't the smartest in class, I'll admit, but regarding Quidditch he's brilliant. If only he could apply the vigour he has on the field in his studies as well...

However proud I am for the dedication Flint has for the team I am bothered when I am alerted, in the middle of the night, that someone has opened the broom shed. Only a few days ago I caught Flint threatening the team with night-training, but for him to actually do it borders to stupidity. I'm surprised my wards haven't been breached, though, but I wouldn't put it past the older students to have found a way past them. They're not heavy wards, merely light and easy ones.

It could, of course, be a different house, but the others are not usually rule breakers when it comes to Quidditch, I've only ever experienced Slytherins doing it. Of course the Gryffindor keeper and captain seem a little obsessed. It could be him, as well, I muse. I hope so.

I reach the pitch and find a dark shape in the air, spinning around. Seeker then, I note. I stand by the side, watching until the person tire out. I am unwilling to admit it, but the Slytherin team seem to have a problem if we go against the team with that seeker.

It's probably a Ravenclaw. Cho Chang, their seeker, seems to stress herself unnecessarily in order to keep her position in everything. It's tiring to watch.

Not wanting to wait any longer I am about to shoot a spell in the air, but the person slows down and hit the ground. I wait for the shape by the shed and startle no one the Harry Bloody Potter out of his wits when I surprise him.

Of course it would be _him_, I tell myself.

"What the hell are you doing out of bed?" I almost bite his head off, but when the boy involuntarily takes a few steps away from me I calm down. "Potter, it's the middle of the night!" I point out, "How did you get past my wards?"

The boy collects himself after my myriad of questions.

"I- I never went to bed," he reply confidently and I scowl at him."I fell asleep in the library!" He quickly informs and I growl at him. I'm not really surprised, but I am bothered. "I needed some air and I came here, thinking I'd try," I stare at him, surprised. This was his first try?

"Potter, this is your first time?" I ask, unconvinced. He nods. "What about training?" Before he answers I remember the incident.

"It was disrupted by Neville Longbottom breaking his wrist," I know there was training scheduled, to make up for the first one, but I also remember it was voluntary attendance and Potter must've decided not to try it out.

"So this was your first time?" I ask again. He seems suspicious by my lack of anger, but nods slowly. I consider him for a few moments. The idea is interesting and it certainly would piss off Minerva. "Potter..." I say slowly and he seems to mentally and physically brace himself for what I am about to say. Hopefully I'll startle him. "You play decently," he releases a breath and stares at me.

"Sir?" He sounds as if he's questioning my sanity and I smirk at him, probably scaring him out of his wits.

"You could be a decent seeker. I will have Flint contact you to arrange a test in the morning," I inform and the boy gape and me before remembering his manners.

"You-you want me to play, Sir?" He looks uncertain and I scowl at him.

"Yes, Potter. You should be happy to be allowed this chance. As a First-Year no less!" I inform him, but he doesn't seem to appreciate my efforts. "Would you rather serve detention with Filch?"I ask and the boy shakes his head uncertain of that as well.

"Can... I think about it?" _Think about it? What's there to think about!?_

"Is it so difficult to make a choice here and now? Most children would love to take your place," I inform him with severely. Potter doesn't answer me and I tell him that Flint will contact him in the morrow and then I quickly escort him back to the House. I sigh when I notice he got a bag with him. He studies too much, and while he's in the top with several others he doesn't stand out. One would think he did in the light of his study habits. Perhaps he's just exceptionally dumb? Or he's taken the decorum books to an entirely new level.

***

The day is tiring, but I am pleased that it's Friday at least. I usher the last students out and the take my time gathering papers and looking through the newly made potions the students have made today. There's a quiet knock on the door disturbing me and I call for the person to enter. I'm surprised to see Flint.

"Hello, Sir," he greets and I reply politely. "Potter doesn't want to play." I sigh. Does it have to be a struggle with the boy? "He has potential, definitely and loads, but he doesn't want to play." I nod at Flint and ask him to send the boy to me. Typical the child doesn't even want to play for his own house; ungrateful brat, anyway.

The boy enters the room and takes a stand in front of my desk, like the rest of the times I've called for him. He seems nervous, but I cannot be sure. I find him hard to read correctly and with his eyes obscured by unruly hair I cannot read his mind.

"Potter," I bark at him and he gives a small jerk in surprise, "what makes you so much better than the rest of us?" He looks at me with questioning eyes. "You will not play for your house?"

"No, sir," the boy replies.

"Why?" I bark again for more information.

"I... I don't like it," he simply replies. I glare at him, but he doesn't continue.

"You just like flying?" I ask sarcastic and he nods. "How..._nice_..." We both fall silent. I am bothered that a talent like this should be wasted; especially since it's Potter. I know Minerva will be utterly aggravated if Potter plays for Slytherin and wins. I wonder if I can bribe him to join. I smirk at him and he seems a little unsettled. _Good_.

"Potter, I have a proposition for you," he looks at me surprised. "You will play for Slytherin this year and then I won't assign you detentions," he looks at me straight in the eye at this. I can see the wheels turning in his head. He knows I will assign detention without reason, he's seen it before.

"This year only?" He asks and then adds, "This season out?" I smirk at him. Well caught, but I won't let the brat know.

"This season. I will not assign detention before next year nor dock points." I watch him think it over. He seems unconvinced; I can see his thought in his expression easily in this regard. "And I won't abuse this the following year and I won't retaliate on whatever lack of detentions I think I've lost this year next year; the same with points." A little hard to take in, but he understands. I don't care. I just want to see Minerva's face when she realises. I even consider buying the child a decent broom, but I won't.

"No retaliation the next year? Or points ducked" The boy confirms. I open my mouth, but beat me to it. "Why?" I hadn't expected that. He looks at me with his huge, green eyes, huge because of those unbecoming glasses. I ponder the truth and decide to go for it.

"We both get something out of it," I am uncertain about the expression crossing his face briefly before it becomes a blank mask. I know him too little to understand what his expressions means. "I get to win the cup with you, hopefully, and you are on a looser leash."

"Is this about my father?" His question startles me. He was probably told from home that his dad played for Gryffindor. But I am wrong. "I saw a plate with his name in the Trophy Room when I did detention with Filch last time." I don't wonder why he found out about it there, but nod instead. He's already seen through it. I don't ponder at his perceptiveness either.

"I want you to grade me fairly," he shocks again, but his eyes are hard and I raise an eyebrow. He seems to know how to play. I wonder if he found it in a book. I wouldn't be surprised. I mock-smile at him, letting him play along.

"I am grading you fairly," he doesn't respond to that, but I know he doesn't believe it; nor should he. He doesn't take it up again or come with other offers, but accept mine. Fool of a boy, but I hardly care.

***

There's only 5 days till the next match and I've heard Terrence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, is upset about the decision regarding Potter taking over. I had to assure the boy that it was only the season out. The Headmaster was strangely compliant in regard to letting Potter play, but it would appear he likes the idea of Potter _socialising_. I agreed, thought I lied, naturally. I assume he knows, he did look at me funny.

Potter has been well trained, I know, so I am not so worried about losing. Even so I think it will be worth it to see Minerva's face. We're on our way to the field for the Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match and I'm surprised she hasn't asked for information yet. I assume she doesn't know. It would explain the merry mood Albus is in.

We enter the stalls and take our seats and not 5 minutes later the sound of the game beginning is heard. I watch as they all fly out and Lee Jordan, the commentator, instantly notice the new seeker.

"WHAT?!" Minerva turns to me, shocked. Her face is livid and I smirk at her. _Ahh yes... this is what I wanted to see_. The woman tells me off and then turn to the Headmaster, who in turn puts her in her place, gently. I've attained my goal. Now I just need Potter to catch the snitch and actually win the cup for us.

Minutes later Minerva is still grumbling, but I am still not really taking notice. Potter seems to be sitting strangely on his broom, or perhaps it's his broom that's acting strange. I pride myself lucky that I put a heavy sticking charm on the broom to ensure that nothing will go wrong today. I look around at the stands to see who might be tampering with the broom, but the curse is lifted when the person realises that Potter won't fall. Still, I look around. It's probably Gryffindor.

***

We won the match! I, of course, didn't doubt it, but it was nice to know that Potter managed it despite what happened. The house seems ecstatic and is carrying Flint away when the team comes out of the locker room. Some of the Slytherins are patting Potter on the back politely before leaving him alone. I feel a little relieved. No one seems to hate him for taking the position as the seeker. _But then again_, I think it myself, _No one seem to like him more than usual either._ I have more important business to tend to than to think of Potter's social habits and I go in search of Albus. Someone tampered with the broom and had I not placed a sticking charm on it the boy would have fallen.

Albus listens to me, but without evidence we have nothing and we conclude that it's most likely a prank from one of the other houses. To ensure Slytherin won't win the cup again.

We continue to chat for a while, Dumbledore is somewhat proud of Minerva's reaction. I agree that it was a precious moment and then the conversation lands on Potter again. The Headmaster voices his worry about the boy being so anti-social. I have little to tell him, I am sure the boy could make friends if he wanted to. I tell the Headmaster so. He doesn't seem convinced and I find that he's looking uncomfortably old.

He cares more about the boy than I realised. Stupid, really, I think. There's no reason to it and Potter won't damage for not being a popular prince like his father, on the contrary.

I tell the Headmaster so and he replies with a 'perhaps' and then the issues slides away.

***

Potter is staring at me, but I tell him there's nothing I can do. I might not be able to give detentions to him, due to our agreement, but Minerva can and she did. Potter and 3 others from Gryffindor were found of their houses after curfew. The three Gryffindors had been at the roof doing who knows what and Potter explains he forgot to leave the library. I am conflicted with that excuse. I know Pince checks before she closes the library. But at the same time I admit the boy has a tendency to _melt in_. She probably didn't notice him in some forsaken corner.

Hagrid's been assigned for their detention. He plans to take them into the woods. I know the brute can take care of them and I hope, all of them, will have some sense knocked into them. I tell Potter so and threaten with an assurance that I know enough wand-waving to turn him into a watch so that he can tell the time next time.

***

I am no longer uncertain about Quirrel and I've told the Headmaster. As usual he doesn't do anything about it unless I have concrete evidence, but he tells me to keep an eye out. I find the man lurking around the shadows near the forest and I intercept him one evening. He looks tired and his eyes flick from one place to another all the time. We talk about loyalties and I question him about the stone. He dodges my question, unwilling to answer, but I assure him I will keep an eye on him.

***

I am called to the hospital wing late in the evening. I growl at Pompfrey and find Potter. I know it's him. I am correct and I stare at him. He's quiet and impassive.

"What now?" I ask, but he doesn't answer. He seems uncertain and I frown at him. Ron Weasley, one of the people Potter landed in detention with, informs me of the transpired events. Potter seems annoyed with Weasley ratting him out, but I cannot figure out why. I am now all too aware what now lurks in the forest, besides the usual, disgusting creatures, and I cannot comprehend why the child wouldn't tell. I inform him of my thoughts and Potter apologies in a calm voice, but his expression is still impassive.

The last match of the season is against Gryffindor. I tell Potter that he must win, perhaps a little too forcefully, as I can make life for him difficult in other ways than detention. We're in a tie with Gryffindor and I want to win. I want Potter to catch the snitch in front of the Gryffindor seeker. I want to gloat more than ever. I am ecstatic knowing that James must be rolling in his grave.

I am keeping a close eye on Potter through the match, but nothing happens. I think it might be because I voiced my _concerns_ aloud in the staffroom; incidentally where Quirrel was. I know the man had something to do with it, but I cannot comprehend what.

We win, I am pleased to see, and I allow a celebration. Potter isn't there.

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**Hey, you reviewing keeps me writing.**


	6. End of 1st year

Hullo

Last chapter of the 1st year. **Please review so I know if I should continue :)**

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**Chapter 6**

Quirrel seems to be more quiet than usual and despite wanting to watch him I simply don't have the time. The exams are approaching for 5th and 7th years and I have too many various draughts to make for Madam Pompfrey. I'd like to assume that Dumbledore have everything under control, but I know the Ministry is taking much of his time as well.

What little time I have besides aforementioned I use on the House; checking to make sure none of the Slytherins are suffering needlessly through their exams.

The first-years seem to be a little stressed out, but they always are, since none of them are used to being tested like this.

I know some of the have had private tutoring, but even that doesn't present a realistic exam as the Hogwarts ones does. I have a few doubts about Crabbe and Goyle making it to the next level and I inform Draco that he needs to help them a bit. He doesn't seem enthusiastic about it, but he knows he has to. He promises to have the other first-years help as well. Slytherin students help each other.

***

I like exam periods. The children are too focussed to bother me and those who do try do so after having thought long and hard, which makes helping them faster.

The other Professors, as always, turns this period into a betting period in regards of the students and who will receive best and worst grades. One might call it cruel, but there's truly little else to do anyway. Luckily the children don't know about it.

The examiners for the 5th and 7th year examinations arrive and I spend some time talking with the Potion examiner. I am pleased that it's a new man. It was hell when it was the same who used to examine me. One felt reduced to a simpering teenager again. This year, however, it's a new one.

I don't bother with too much talk, though. I am merely curious as to who will be examining the Hogwarts students and if he is competent enough.

***

I have a surprise floo-call from Lucius. I haven't spoken with him since the beginning of the year. Not that I regret it, as such, but conversations with Lucius are usually quick to turn arrogant and you end up threading the same subjects over and over again, agreeing mindlessly with each other. Though, points to him, Lucius have quite a humour, which eases the visits and actually makes me come back; after a while.

We talk mostly about Draco and his studies. He's satisfied with the information I give him, pleased and takes the responsibility upon himself; I am unsurprised.

I am not surprised when the talk lands on Potter. He's curious about the boy and asks me about him. I cannot tell him much though, for I know little. Draco seems to have informed what I know about the boy to Lucius anyway. When he continues his pursuit of information I inform him of my dislike of the brat. He's not surprised and laughs at me, reminding me of my _wonderful_ student time with James Potter. As if I could forget it.

Lucius is _kind_ enough to invite me for tea when the vacation starts. I am uncertain whether or not it will be wise. On one hand Draco might believe me likely to tell Lucius of what Draco wish to confide in me. Lucius persists, though, I am decides to inform Draco of it and let him know his trust and secrets are safe with me.

***

The Slytherins all seem to be handling the exams well. Of course the 5th and 7th years are taking it harder, but they, too, seem to get through it without breakdowns.

It appears Ravenclaw are in for the win for most student breakdowns this year.

Flitwick keeps his cheery mood and insists that the rest of us can still make it. I doubt it though. I'm a Slytherin, I cheat. I dosed the students with light versions of calming draughts.

***

The exams are over for most of the students and all hurry out in the sun to bask in the sunlight after having been cooped up for so long. I intercept Draco to hear how his exams went and am pleased to find that he is confident in the result. I inform him about his father and note that he's pleased when he hears my loyalty to him. He may not confide in me now, but eventually he might and I want him to be able to trust me.

I am surprised to find Potter in the library. The exams are over and yet the child continues to read. I glare at him till he notice me and the a little while longer to prove my point. He blushes, an emotion I haven't seen in a while, and then looks at me coldly; an emotion I haven't seen directed at me at all. I assume it to be stress and leave the child to himself. I cannot give detention to him or take points anyway, so it wouldn't be fun.

***

Dumbledore is called away. I'm not surprised, though. The Ministry always calls him away, but it bothers me that it's _now_. Too much is happening for it to be now. He should know that, but he continues to assure me that the stone is safe. I watch Quirrel to the best of my abilities, but even I cannot be more places at once.

***

Something is wrong. Albus is back from the Ministry, claiming my attention immediately in the staffroom. A silver message is sent out and the other professors gather quickly. I note, worriedly, Quirrel isn't there.

He was not called to the Ministry, it was a mistake, but they don't know who did call him. I have an inkling feeling and so does he.

We're rushing up the stairs, towards the 3rd floor. I am dreading what I might find. The Dark Lord back? I cannot even explain the sheer terror I'm feeling and most of all I want to run the other way. I do _not_ want to be here if the Dark Lord is really back. My time with the Dark Lord was short, all things considered, but I saw enough to frighten me. Lily might've been the primary reason for leaving, but I had wanted to leave long before her.

Fluffy is asleep when we get to him, a harp is playing in the corner and Albus adds a spell for its continuous playing. The trapdoor is free from the beast's claws and open. Someone's definitely been here.

Albus goes first and then Minerva and I. Flitwick and the rest check the students and ensure their safety.

The Devil's Snare is dead when we lands in it. Not surprising. Quirrel was never one to wait patiently.

We rush to the next room with the flying keys. The door on we're going through is already open, so we don't need to find the correct key. The chess set too have been playing and allows us through and the troll is dead in the following chamber. I am taking down the wards of the Potions-test-chamber when a scream is heard. It doesn't sound like Quirrel and Dumbledore urges me to continue quickly. The wards are down and we rush in just in time to see thick air swirl and disappear; beneath lies a pile of ash and not far from...

Harry Potter. Should I even be surprised?

***

Dumbledore has taken care of the stone with his friend Nicholas Flamel. Minerva and I await his return, both of us deep in thought. At last the man arrives, looking a little weary, but lighter nevertheless.

"This should _not_ have happened!" Minerva informs immediately. We all know that, but I am interested in hearing what Albus has to say. The stone was supposed to be safe. We are all uncertain about the part Potter has played. I have no doubt that the boy tried to be heroic. He's not much popular in this school, so he's probably trying to get in people's good graces. _Attention seeking brat_, I think to myself.

"The stone has been destroyed," Albus informs lastly, for now ignoring Minerva's claim. "I am uncertain what young Harry's part is in this, but we shall know soon enough," he promises. He doesn't seem worried. I am sure he believes the child to be innocent. He probably is, but he's stupid; innocent and stupid. They don't care about my opinion, though, so I don't voice it.

***

Pompfrey informs us that the boy has awakened and Minerva leaves to let us be. She glares at me before though, to ensure that I won't voice my doubt aloud in front of the boy. As if I need it. I am sure the boy is positively glowing by his accomplishment.

I am mistaken. The boy looks uncomfortable and avoids eye-contact with us. Albus, however, is good at making children feel good and offer the child a sweet. The boy declines politely.

"So, Harry," Albus begins, smiling brightly. "Do not fret, you're not in trouble," he assures the boy. I note the boy in question isn't fretting. He's not really responsive at all, keeping an impassive mask. He's clearly in shock. "Are you alright?" Albus questions and wait for the brat to answer. I stand by the side, observing, and waiting as well. It takes some time for the child to answer and when he does it's with a question of his own.

"What was he after?"

"You do not know?" Albus asked, surprised. The boy shakes his head and from what I can see this is the truth. He is frowning. There's a crease between his eyes in concentration; as if trying to remember something. Was the boy spelled into the plot or did he enter voluntarily?

"No, sir," he looked at the Headmaster truthfully. "I met Quirrel in the hallway. I had been wandering on the upper floors, since there aren't so many students there, and was on my way back. I was on the landing of the 3rd floor, waiting for a staircase to move my way when he saw me. He said to stay and took me into the hallways of the 3rd floor..." Potter pause for a moment and I look at him curiously, but it seems the boy is uncertain of what to say next.

"Did he hurt you?" Albus asks quietly. Potter looks up again and shakes his head uncertain.

"No..." he replies, "he... talked. He talked about not being alone; people watching him. Said it was good that he had run into me..." the boy falls silent again. So it was pure accident. "I don't remember much after that. He took me to the room with that... that Cerberus!" The boy looks startled by his own outburst and falls silent again. We wait for him to continue and he does when he realises it.

"I don't remember more from then on. I tried to get away, nothing really made sense... and then I was there; in the room with the mirror." He pauses and then glances at me briefly before looking at Dumbledore again. "He... he started screaming when I touched him. And ..."

"We believe Lord Voldemort might've possessed the Professor," Albus voice and the boy, I'm surprised to see, don't flinch, but nods in somewhat acceptance.

"I saw him. He was in the back of his head..." I escape, not wanting to listen to the rest. My heart is beating away in my chest and my throat it tight. This had been too close. For 10 years I've been free and now he's on the brink of returning. That Potter managed to _save the day_ was mere luck. The brat won't be able to save us again, but that's what's expected of him.

I take solace in my rooms, pouring an unhealthy dose of scotch into a large glass. Am I prepared for the future? I doubt it. The child was lucky, but he's _just_ a child. He cannot be lucky again. It's against all odds.

Somewhere in the back of my minds I curse the brat for managing to succeed. I am ambiguous in regards to my feelings. On one hand I cannot stand to have the Dark Lord back, but on the other hand I find I'd rather have him back in flesh than his half-attempt to come back. It will happen again, I know. If he's back you have something substantial you can deal with. If he's just... whatever he is, you have nothing.

Albus finds me a few hours later. I have missed the meal and the celebration. Albus thought it wise to inform everyone what happened at dinner and I'm surprised that no Slytherins has tried to find me to hear if it's true.

He tells me Slytherin won the house-cup.

I cannot seem to care at the moment. I cannot help but thinking of the next time. I tell him so and he agrees that there will be a next time.

I proceed to tell him Potter cannot save us all the time, but he doesn't give an easy answer.

_What's the use?_ I know it's the booze talking, but now I feel like it's the truth.

***

I manage to come out of hiding by the time the children depart. I give my regards to those I know won't be coming back.

Draco is the only one who dares to question me about the events happening earlier in the week. As he does so he glances towards the back, where Potter is hiding in the shadows, seemingly checking his things through. I cannot give him the answer he would like.

"Trust in yourself," I tell him. He doesn't seem to understand and I wish he would. He will need it the day the Dark Lord is back. If he doesn't have self-confidence the Dark Lord will frighten him and use it to get to him. I look at the other first-years, huddled near Draco. I tell it to all of them.

Except Potter. The brat doesn't need it.

_End of 1st__year._

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**Hullo, please review and let me know how 1st year was. **


	7. Harry's POV 1st year

So, dudes, I decided to make 1 chapter with Harry's POV. It's the entire year from his POV, but it might give you ideas of how his innocent ideas turn into valid points etc.

Please review and let me know what you think. I am already working on 2nd year, Snape's POV.

Also, some people have asked if this was how **Tom Riddle **started and I think it is. I think there's a deep respect for leaders in the Slytherin house and instead of bonding with the leaders the other students in the house bows and the rest of the school is just hostile. I think the Slytherins bow to leaders where Gryffindors become loyal, friendly, which makes the Gryffindor leaders more earthbound and Slytherin ones more excluded. If that makes sense?

I think Tom Riddle had a lot of friends, but I think most of them only liked him because he could get them things, power, etc.

**Harry's POV**

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The mail has arrived and I'm asked to get it. I don't mind, it's an easy job and even mere seconds away from the Dursleys are precious to me. I linger in the hall for a few seconds, taking a deep breath. I can feel hunger rising in me and I need to be careful using too much strength. Who knows when I'll get food next?

There's a small collection of letters and I spend a few seconds sorting through them in order for a few more solitary seconds to pass as I relax alone in the hallway.

Strange

There's a letter addressed to me; and not just me, but to my cupboard. The address is perfectly written

_Harry Potter_

_The cupboard under the stairs_

_Privet Drive 4_

How odd… I open the door to look out, not really expecting to see anyone. There are none and after having stood there, staring, uncle calls for me.

I'm not an idiot. I hide the letter in my cupboard before taking the rest to uncle. He's muttering under his breath about my inability to perform the simplest of things. It hurts, his words, despite knowing they shouldn't. I know it's not right. I read a book about it after having seen it in the school nurse's office at school.

I'm not blind either. I see the way other people act towards each other. I know I haven't done anything wrong, the book I read said so, too.

Nevertheless I cannot help but blame myself. I know it's wrong, but I strive to make them like me. That's how it's supposed to be. Families like each other. They support each other.

Recently, however, I've begun to view the Dursleys as anything but my family. Dudley's friend was hurt and auntie took care of him. With care. Why wouldn't she like me then?

I manage to escape for my cupboard after I've done the dishes. The letter is stashed away under my bed where I left it. I crumble it to hide it in my pocket without anyone notice and then I leave the house. They don't mind me leaving, they never do.

Once a police officer asked what I was doing out late in the evening; asked if I was lost. He didn't seem to understand that I was simply out for a walk and told me to go home.

But where is home?

The park is filled with people, so I take a smaller path down to a nearby pond where I can hide from the sun and people between the large trees.

I break the seal and open the letter

********

I am still uncertain about the whole wizarding business. And that's despite standing in Diagon Alley. The implications of this matter have trouble getting through to me and I almost don't dare think what it means.

An obvious thing is that I'll be away from the Dursleys all year except for summer. But... will it really happen? With my luck chances are some mistake was made or the school is burned down and all hopes are extinguished. It would be typical, wouldn't it?

And there's one tiny little problem as well... I have no money. How the hell am I supposed to buy things without money? Uncle certainly won't help and I dare not tell him about the letter yet. Not before I'm sure.

The bank is looming over me and I stop to stare. There's got to be some helping in there; something that will enable me to buy my things. My parents were witches and wizards, weren't they? I'm not sure, but it's the only thing that explains why they were so hated by auntie and uncle. Hated just like me and if they were just like me then they, too, were magical. Perhaps they have savings of some kind?

Goblins are running the bank and I almost laugh manically. This is too weird, I think. Nevertheless I try to use my best behaviour as I enter the line in order to be received.

"Yes?" The goblin stares at me disinterested.

"Hello, my name is Harry Potter, sir..." I drop my voice a little to keep the conversation more private. Already I feel extremely exposed and people are staring at me funny. "I... can..." the goblin seems to realise what I want and calls for another goblin who takes me to a private room. I feel relieved by their kindness and less exposed. I decide to tell the truth and I am rewarded when the goblin informs me that I do indeed have an account, several, apparently, but the key is safe with someone called Albus Dumbledore.

********

I've nicked a few coins from uncle and changed them to Knuts so I can send an owl from the wizarding post office. I'm uncomfortable doing it, scared silly really, but he won't notice, hopefully. He never does, I know, for Dudley does it all the time.

The owl is sent with my acceptance letter to the Headmaster as well as a wish for my key. I want to ask him more questions, ask him why _he_ is the one keeping my key, but I honestly am not really ready to do so. I don't know the man and asking such questions would make me too vulnerable. I need to protect myself. This could, still, be just a joke.

********

The reply from the Headmaster is simple and polite. He wishes me congratulations and looks forward to seeing me. The key is given to me as well as telling me that my parents left it in his possession during the war to ensure no one could get to my vaults.

What war?

And why would anyone be interested in accessing my vaults?

Questions, questions that needs some serious answers. I go to Diagon Alley again; ignoring the strange look auntie is sending me. I know I've been more... strange than usual, but what can I tell her?

The goblins are kind toward me and I am taken to my vault. I'm told it's only a fund, created in the goal to ensure I have tuition money and such for Hogwarts; teenage-vault, in a way. The goblin tells me I won't be able to access my other vaults until I am off age, but I ask if I can get papers of them and be explained what they contain.

The main vault, main vault due to me being directly descended to its owners, is the Potter vault. Besides that vault there's my grandparent's vault as well as a few others. None of them contain massive amounts of cash, per se, but together they make quite a substantial amount. It turns out inbreeding has caused the death of many links and as such I've become the main inheritor of several smaller accounts here and there.

Cool. No need to have financial worries, then. The inbreeding-thing makes me curious, though. Why would there be inbreeding in the first place? Aren't there enough wizards in the world for them to be together? And why don't they find love with non-magical people? Are the two cultures so far apart that it's not possible? What are the laws and who take care of said laws?

I have many questions and I think I have an idea of where to get them answered.

I get a good amount of money from my fund and decide to get the things my list tells me to get first before looking into the more important matters, such as why people are thanking me about getting rid of You Know Who and such things. Something tells me it concerns the _war_, so I will need to know about that too.

I am curious, though. I haven't heard about a big war with England since... well since Hitler, really.

It's in the wand-store I am, once more, confronted with the truth. The man, Mr. Ollivander, freaks me out, but he _knows._I cannot help but ask him about the war and inform him I don't know much, but that I want to. He's unsurprised by my lack of knowledge, but it seems to spring from the fact that I'm a child who lived with _muggles_; the regular idea.

He informs me of a few good books that will help me understand and I go on the pursuit of knowledge. It's a strange, detached, feeling I'm having in regards of all this. I cannot imagine myself being in this... mess, and yet it's become the centre of my life, somehow. All within a small span of time.

The bookstore proves valuable and I buy several books on the wizarding society, Hogwarts and, of course, the _war_. I also find book regarding the laws of the England wizarding society, history of other wizarding societies and the _Ministry of Magic_, which really gets me curious.

How the hell I'll manage to read them I don't know. I am still quite worried about telling the Dursleys, but I know it has to be done.

********

The letter, my acceptance letter to Hogwarts, is unfolded and lies neatly on the table. Auntie enters the room and stops dead when she sees the envelope and I realise she knows exactly what it looks like. Her eyes widen and she looks towards me, knowing I've read it.

"It's rubbish, a joke!" She snarls at me. She takes the letter and throws it in the fire and tells me to go to the cupboard. I tell her the truth; that I know and that I've accepted.

********

I'm surprised that later I'm still let out from the cupboard. My uncle is twitching nervously and my aunt is staring out the window. I await their judgement patiently. They know I've accepted the letter and if I don't turn up on the first day of school they'll know something is wrong. I am, nevertheless, worried as hell as I anxiously wait for them to talk.

"Your aunt and I have decided you're too big for the cupboard. You will move to Dudley's second bedroom."

This was _not_ what I expected. I stare at my uncle dumbly and he snarls at me, telling me to collect my things and go to my new bedroom. He follows me up there, watching me carefully. I'm so glad I decided to stash my magical things in a vault at Gringotts.

"We've done much for you. We could've turned out down. You could've been sent to an orphanage," uncle tells me. I watch him, feeling somewhat confused. He's blabbering and I don't know to what purpose. "Don't drag this family into your mud. Don't you dare tell anyone about us!"

_Ahh... there it is_ I realise. The point was to ensure I wouldn't send magical people after them. I wonder if I even could. I nod in agreement, accepting his terms and deals. I have permission to live with them each summer if I keep silent and keep my freak-tendencies at school.

********

The first couple of days are spent in Diagon Alley after the Dursleys have found out about Hogwarts. I am still worried about bringing my magical things to the house, so I stash it at Gringotts every time I'm done. It's a terrible solution and as students begin to arrive in the alley, taking Gringott's time, I realise I have to find another way. I need to _know_ about the world and I feel that I cannot afford not knowing,

I know. In a fit of inspiration I rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron and stay there, going back to Privet Drive each evening and coming back to the Leaky Cauldron each morning. It becomes a regular thing and as I read about myself and the war I begin to understand what goes on and I find myself wearing a cap to look less like _me_. It's discomforting to realise I'm sort of a hero within this society's midst and I am not entirely sure how to use it. People are grateful for something I don't remember.

Or do I?

Dreams I've always had suddenly seem to be possible. Could that dream be of my life in this world?

I find myself spending a lot of time dreaming of a world where my parents are alive and I'm a wizard with them. I have no idea what they look like, so I make up the pictures in my head. Mum is a long-legged gorgeous brunette, brunette like aunt Petunia, and Dad's thin and tall. Nothing like the Dursleys in personality. I imagine them holding me, throwing me lovingly into the air and catching me. Helping me with homework and kissing me when I'm sad. At first the thoughts are of things I've experienced, but slowly it becomes thoughts of how they'd react to thing I currently experience.

How would they react when they showed me Diagon Alley? How would we stand in line together at the bank? Would we eat an ice-cream together? I'd beg them for one and they'd give me one because they love me. We'd sit in the sun, waving at other wizards and witches we know, I'm sure. I'd probably know someone going to Hogwarts too!

The feelings are dominating me and I can no longer read books, but stare out into the crowded Alley and watch people, thinking of how my parents would've held my hand to ensure I wouldn't get lost.

Unconstructive, but I cannot help myself and after a few days spent dreaming I find myself angry. Why didn't my family love me enough to look past the hatred? Why did my auntie hate my mum so much? Or was it my mum who hated my auntie and my aunt reacting to it?

I don't _know_. I know nothing about my family and I need to know. But what can I do? Ask the Dursleys? They've told me often enough how despicable my parents were, would their answers change now that I _know_? I doubt it.

********

My hunt for knowledge, anything, in regards of my family, has begun. I talk with the goblins about my parents, but they inform me that they have nothing to give me. There are no items in the family vault that could tell me anything. No pictures, nothing. Everything was destroyed when _He_ attacked. Will the house still be there?

I promise myself to visit, but as the days pass I still haven't visited. I realise, as September the 1st is coming around, that I simply don't dare. I am _afraid_. It's tough to realise, but I tell myself that some things will be unravelled in their own time. I have time to find out the truth, I tell myself, and I've already found out so much about my past this last month already, so no need to push it.

1st of September.

My uncle doesn't want to take me to the station and I find myself disinterested in letting him anyway. I've learned enough this last month, about London, to not need him anyway.

********

I am deliberately early at the station, but I simply cannot find where the hell the entrance it. 93/4, where is that? I am not dumb enough to ask a patroller, since, obviously, he won't know. For the first time in the last month I start doubting this scheme again. Perhaps it was all a joke? I dare not think about it and instead find a place quiet where I can open my trunk. I find the book about Hogwarts in hopes of getting info and I am not disappointed. There, on the first pages of the books, is the story how to get to the platform, its makings and as such.

I look up and stare towards the entrance. It looks very solid, but as I look an elderly woman steadily walk towards it and disappears. I stare in shock and as my heart starts thudding in my chest I gather my things to follow. I close my eyes, truly hoping for the best, as I jump into the pillar. The crash I expected doesn't happen and I open my eyes. In front of me is a large platform with a long, old, train alongside it. A few people are moving about, calling orders to each other and I spot the woman who went through the barrier before me. She sees me stare and she smile kindly to me.

"You're an early one, dearest," she smiles kindly, "we won't leave for another 2 hours," she smile again, "if you like you can, of course, go the a compartment and then come back for some food," she points towards a trolley with sweets and what looks like regular food," I nod at her and thank her.

On instinct I go to the front, knowing people don't travel far and this will give me the advantage of being alone. I settle into the compartment feeling my tense muscles tightening again. I won't feel relaxed until I see Hogwarts, experience it, I know. A part of me is still reminding me that this isn't real.

After having settled into the compartment I follow the woman's idea and buy some food from her. I dare not enter the regular world again, afraid I won't be able to come back. No need to take chances.

********

Others are arriving, but besides a few older people no one visits my compartment before the train is off. The cap on my head keeps them from recognising me, for which I am grateful, and I am left somewhat alone the entire trip except from the one time the woman with the food comes around. I buy some more, one of each, just to see it. It's much different from the _real_ sweets I know and I find that something that resemble to liquorice tastes nothing like it.

I am interrupted when a bushy-looking girl come around looking for a toad. I tell her I haven't seen it and I wonder, to myself, why anyone would buy a toad. I had thought of a familiar myself, but seeing I had no reason to buy one I didn't think it necessary. An owl would be unnecessary as I don't write to anyone, a cat I cannot bring home to the Dursleys and a toad... well, I don't think so.

********

I am no longer dreaming. I doubt my mind can come up with such a magnificent display of beauty and magic. Unless I've gone completely mad. I doubt it though, as I can hear the bushy girl in a boat besides mine talking away. She's voicing my thoughts exactly and it makes me feel comfortable knowing I am not the only one finding this experience amazing.

We're left at the top stairs by the giant man, Hagrid. Professor McGonagall has voiced that she's taking over and she leads us to a room where she explains the upcoming events. After leaving the bushy haired girl starts chattering again. She's clearly nervous, but, once more, she voices my own concerns. It seems unrealistic, despite what some red-headed boy says, that we'll be facing a troll or something truly hideous.

Logic tells me it's not dangerous and we won't perform in front of other students, but my nerves are worried anyway. Good think that I've managed several spells already. I managed a hovering charm and a repair charm on the train.

Logic won't help me now, I realise, as we're asked to follow her into the Great Hall. I can feel the panic rising in me

*******

It's not dangerous. We're sorted into houses by a talking hat.

My name is called, I suddenly realise. Despite trying to force myself to be calm I cannot help but shake. I take my place on the stool, ignoring the heavy whispers around the room while trying not to be bothered.

_Hmm..._ A voice whispers in my ear and I stiffen._Plenty of courage and a thirst to prove yourself,_ The voice continues. _I see a dislike towards your past. A dislike towards the illogic of it all_ I think it's smirking, but I cannot be sure.

"It _is_ illogical," I tell the hat in my mind. "People don't think. I was only a baby." I fall silent as the hat asses me. It's amused by my distrust and dislike towards what happened when I was a child, but says it finds it a great strength that I won't take such answers as truthful, but seek the truth myself.

**_SLYTHERIN!_**

I remove the hat and my stomach makes an involuntary convulsion. No clapping like the others; only staring and obvious shock. What did I do wrong now?

In my mind I recite the houses and I, with a mature realisation, realise how they must feel with me landing in Slytherin, its reputation and my reputation. An angry part of me laughs at their ignorance, but the logical part of me informs me that I, too, am ignorant and I shouldn't assume anything yet.

I glance towards the Head table and my eyes lock with a man with long, black hair. He's staring at me intensely, making me feel uncomfortable. A sudden pain shoots through my head and I almost gasp and look away.

My old scar is tingling uncomfortably, but the brief, but intense, pain I felt a moment ago is gone. I dare not glance towards the Head table again, but keep my head down.

Dinner is concluded and the Head boy calls for the 1st years to follow him. I obediently do, falling behind deliberately so I can watch the others. They all seem to have an arrogant air, lazy and unsurprised. I frown at them as I listen to the blond boy talk about how proud his parents will be for him to make to Slytherin, not that he had expected anything else.

I ponder at this fact. If people assume Slytherins to be evil, box them as such, why would some want their child to go there? Unless... they themselves were Slytherins and believe in it. Or they might know the truth about Slytherins since they went there. Perhaps Slytherin is really a good place, but all the other houses doesn't know about it?

I really cannot be sure and I realise I have to get to know the place. Outsiders might see them as evil while on the inside they may love pink and bunnies. Time will tell

I stop to think as the Head boy informs us briefly about what is expected of us, our dorms and a few other things. When we're interrupted it's by the dark haired man who, I realise with a slight terror, is our Head of House.

I bow my head, avoiding anyone's gaze and listen to him speak.

"Mr. Potter!" I glance up surprise and stare at the Professor. He's angry, I don't know why. "While you may be _The Boy Who Lived_ you will find that your status won't grant you anything within these walls. Here we are equals and you will pay attention or I will give you detention till you graduate!"

The shame makes me flush and I nod horrified. He's tapping his food and I frown, uncertain of its meaning. "You will reply with a 'Yes, Sir/Professor', is that understood?" I nod, eyes wide, and manages a somewhat hoarse "yes sir". The others are snickering quietly to themselves and the Professor continues his speech.

"As I just informed _Potter_ in Slytherin you're equal and you will stand together. Never forget your manners, or," he glares at me pointedly, "acquire some if you don't have any and don't forget them then."

I am mortified. I've always managed to slip by people's attention and suddenly I feel as if a huge spotlight is on me, pointing my flaws out. Am I that bad-mannered, I wonder? I know the Dursleys haven't taught me manners, but I've seen enough to know not to talk when elders are speaking and not to talk back, but pay attention. I ponder this difference and shamefully realise that anything taught by the Dursleys has to be erased. They've told me enough lies, anyway, to make me safely assume that the manners I've acquired, or lack off, are wrong and must be changed.

********

I am not about to make the same mistake as yesterday when I enter the Potions classroom. This is the class my Head of House teaches and I obediently takes a seat and stay silent. The Professor enters the classroom loudly and his attitude leaves everyone certain that this man won't tolerate much. I take out my quill, fragile little thing, which I immensely dislike, and prepare to take notes. The Professor begins to talk and I scribble down his speech, realising the fascinating potential this class holds.

"Potter!" I look up, surprised by the acid voice. The Professor mocks my manners, making the other students snicker. I stare at him, shocked. I was not being disrespectful, I tell myself. Not on purpose, anyway. I consider telling him, but I realise he won't listen to me. He hates me for some strange reason and while I really don't want to put him in a box I cannot help to. A part of me reminds me of my past and that some people might not appreciate it.

He looks like one of them. I mask my face carefully, not willing to give away any emotion he'll use against me. This is not a hard trick, since I've done it enough times with the Dursleys to keep them from using my feelings against me.

When I don't respond he takes 5 points from me and tells me to stay after class.

As class ends I stay in my seat, trying to suppress the terror I'm feeling. He snarls at me and tells me to come to him and I do.

"Your family, I am sure, must be shocked by your lack of manners!" His voice contradict his statement and I wonder why, but I leave it be for now.

"I'm sorry... sir," I almost forgets the title.

"Speak up, boy! Or do you need me to find you a book on proper manners from the library?" I try to collect myself, and while I feel I appear a little less chaotic I feel not less chaotic on the inside. He lets me go and I hurry to my next class, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I have trouble figuring out if this is how things are supposed to be or not, but surely... _I don't know!_ I realise I really don't.

This is unfamiliar territory and I cannot make an assessment until I've learned more of this culture.

To my pleasant surprise none of the other Professors are like Snape. On the contrary. All are fair and polite. It makes me wonder.

********

People hate me. Or my house does, anyway. I take my seat at the dinner table, my back stiff and face blank. _This_ time I won't piss anyone off. If I have no manners at least I won't look like an idiot.

I look at the people around me inconspicuously and note that they, too, are sitting straight. I'm on the right track, then. When those in my vicinity have taken food I move to get some, too, but it's taken away from me by an older student. He's looking at me with a smirking expression and I cannot help but frown.

I move for another option, but that too is taken from me. The blonde boy from my year is snickering, catching up on the intention. I realise it quickly as well as the students scatter the food away from my reach. I clench my jaw when there's snickering and glares towards me and I resolve to leave it alone. No need to get in trouble, I tell myself. I can get food later.

After the meal I go in search for the kitchen. _Hogwarts: A History_ mentions elves and I wonder if they can help. The other students have fallen asleep when I leave my bed. It's been a rough night and they've been teasing me sporadically, naming me in their conversations suddenly and making fun of me. A few pushes here and there. It's not too violent and I can handle it. I enter the common room and stand around for a few seconds, wondering what to do exactly. How will I contact it?

A book mentioned that elves respond to their master's call and I assume I am something of a master since I'm a student of Hogwarts. I try to call for an elf and the word barely escapes me before an elf is in front of me. I am shocked. I had no idea that this is what elves looked like. I flush while I stammer out my question and it tells me where to find the kitchen. I don't really know what I had anticipated, but this kind of... elf was not it. I am a little embarrassed to realise I might've thought of one of those beautiful, mythical ones. These are not really pretty and they're wearing tattered robes.

I enter the kitchen and I am accosted by several more, all claiming my attention and asking me questions. Some say I am a great wizard and mention my past, but I don't respond to that, not knowing how to. I cannot help but ask about their clothes and I find myself surprised that it's what binds them, shows them their status. I don't linger in the kitchen, as it's making me uncomfortable.

It's worrisome to realise that I, too, am an elf in a way. I too was wearing tattered rags and slaving about. It's a terrible thing and it makes me uncomfortable.

"Potter! What are you doing outside the house in the night?" I startle and accidentally drop my buns. I look around anxiously.

"I'm sorry, sir. I was hungry..." It's a feeble excuse, apparently, because Snape seem to grow angrier.

"I will not fall for you acting!" I stare at him incomprehensibly.

"S-Sorry, Sir?" I ask and Snape sneers at me.

"I will not have you leave the Slytherin house after curfew. You may enter the common room at will, but you will not leave the house. You have 3 meals at day to ensure you're satisfied, eat at them," I step back, almost, in worry. He's so angry and I cannot help but be frightened. He mentions that I wasn't eating at lunch and remarks that my hero-status has probably made me arrogant. I don't know what to say.

"Yes, sir," I go for the accepting approach. Maybe he won't hate me so much.

"Speak up!" Snape says, but before I can he continues. "I do hope that you're not using this pathetic behaviour on the rest of the professors!" I take a step back. Pain and panic flooding through me. I failed again. I'm not good enough and they'll send me home!

His disgust at me is easy to see in his face and I realise how pathetic I am. The Dursleys always said that my pathetic behaviour wasn't excusable. I need to control myself.

I try to explain, "I'm sorry... Snivell..." He presses me against the wall in a second. The back of my head hurts as I hit the wall, but I can hardly think of it as I gasp for air. Snape is staring into my eyes, forcefully and a tingling sense passes through my mind.

"Go!"He whispers, eyes wide and unreadable. I cannot comprehend his demand at first, too shocked to realise. It's not until he releases me that my instincts tell me to get away and I flee. I fall into the common room, gasping for air and falling to the ground. I'm shaking, I'm panicking. My stomach turns and I throw up and fall to the ground, landing in it.

I don't know how long I've been lying there, in my own vomit, but an elf suddenly appears and tells it will take me to the hospital wing. I refuse and somehow manage to get to the loo where I can get showered. When I leave the shower my clothes are gone, but there's a towel lying ready for me. I cannot comprehend anything and I am too tired to feel anything. I stumble to my room and quietly slip into my bed and let the curtains fall around it, hiding me.

********

The following days passes quietly. Snape seems to be avoiding me as I avoid him. It comforts me to know that he avoids me. It means he did wrong and what happened wasn't normal. I avoid the other students as well as they've found amusement in shoving me lightly here and there. The Head boy, luckily, tells people to stop bothering me and the teasing become less, but is still there. The Head boy was also _kind_ enough to tell me the name of a book of proper decorum in front of the others, but I nevertheless take it to me.

In class Snape avoids me, except on paper. My first paper is delivered with red marks everywhere, pointing out flaws and how lacking my manners are. I decide to visit the library to find the books, realising I need to fit in. The other Professors don't seem to mind me and leave me mostly by myself. I don't draw attention to myself unless necessary and when it happen I am usually rewarded. Unless it's Snape.

I've found the elves to be pleasant enough after having gotten over my initial discomfort. I go there often and I eat in the kitchen before attending the meals in the Great Hall. The other Slytherins aren't taking the food away anymore, but I don't know if it's because they believe I've learned or not. I decide not to take the chance.

********

Snape is not agreeing with my ways. As if that's surprising, really, I note tiredly. He calls me to stay after class and I walk to his table, manners in check. He seems appreciative of my effort and despite hating myself for it the recognition means more to me than it should. I inform him that I do eat, but at other times, but I attend the meals out of respect since Flint, the Head boy, told me to. He accepts it, but I nevertheless leave the conversation with a detention; I don't disagree as I am sure it could be worse.

********

Halloween comes around and I am overwhelmed by the massive decorations. While it's beautiful I have a detached feeling about it all. I feel somewhat detached as I watch everyone laugh and joke and I admit to myself that I truly envy them. I look towards Draco who is entertaining the other 1st years. They're laughing, but I'm not included. I wonder what will happen if I laugh with them. I dare not, it would be embarrassing and they'd no doubt punish me. Regardless of the descent in the teasing towards me it's still there, just below the surface and when it fits _them_ they unleash it.

I leave the hall with its pumpkin coloured decorations in search for the library. Massive screams erupt when I am farther away and I assume they've unleashed the entertainment. Just then the ground shakes and a thudding noise is heard. I turn the corner in time to see the large door to the girls' bathroom close and then I hear a scream. Terrifying scream and I run towards the bathroom, wondering what happened. I burst into the bathroom and nearly collide with something huge. It takes me a few seconds to realise what the hell it is.

A troll. Is that even possible? A scream tears through my wonderings and I snap out of it. I step back and survey it as it grasps a girl. I recognise her as the Ravenclaw Hermione Granger. She was the worrying one who was looking for the toad on the train. She screams again and barely avoids the club the troll is swinging. I look around for something and realise I have a wand.

A quick Wingardium Leviosa and the club leave the troll's hand. It looks up dumbly at the club and with a shattering noise I force it hard into the head of the troll. It drops Hermione, who scramble to her feet, shocked and with frizzier hair than ever. The troll drops to the ground with a loud crash and mere seconds later Professor Snape, Quirrel and McGonagall rush into the bathroom, startled and shocked when seeing the troll.

********

I've been avoiding Snape as much as possible. It started out subconsciously, but I sorta realised my fear when I turned and walked in the other direction when I spotted him. He seems to be ignoring me, too, which I'm grateful for. The man hates me and I'm not the only one to realise that it's beyond the regular hatred he has towards the students. Whispers point out that Snape usually never docks points from Slytherin, but he does it now. To me. He really must hate me.

I wonder at it, but what can I say? I can hardly ask him. His presence is making me uncomfortable anyway, along with the rest of the Slytherins. I take refuge in the library where I've found a nook for myself. I spend most of my time in there, hidden. The older students are getting bolder with their teasing. Words have progressed to actions. Pushes here and there at the beginning and now direct assaults. It happens rarely, though. Flint's told them they have to behave because I'm being watched. It freaks me out, but I wonder how well I'm watched.

While musing about all of this, one day on my way to the library, I stumble into Snape. His expression is wrong; wrong for him. Something is wrong, I can feel it and I quickly realise that his pants are stained with blood and he's limping. I hurry on my way, not wanting to feel his wrath.

I cannot help but think of the accident, though. What on earth was that about? Why was he hurt?

********

I've found something disturbing in the library. A footnote. It's so simple that normal students, and people probably, don't take notice, but I do, as it makes me realise something frightening right away.

The book is of the darker arts, its history, basically. I'm reading about the past when I notice a footnote. I don't recognise the word; it's Latin: Legilimency.

I can't figure out what it means and there are no dictionaries in my vicinity. Is it a spell? I have no idea. I peruse the library for hours. The context the word is in hints of a way of seeing the truth. The idea sound almost silly, but if there's a potion for truth-telling surely there's a spell too.

I decide to take a break in order to get my notebook. I've left it in the dorm anyway.

There's a game today so it's pretty safe to hurry through the halls without being told off. I briefly consider why there's no easier way getting my things. Perhaps there's a sort of calling spell for that? I promise myself to look into it.

I've reached the library again, after having gotten my notebook, when a voice speaks. I don't have time to turn around before I'm hit. Everything darkens.

********

I wake up feeling rather numb. It's disconcerting, to say the least, when I realise I cannot move my body.

"Do not fret, Mr. Potter," the voice is soft and the school healer enters my view. She flicks her wand and I am able to move. She explains it was to ensure I didn't damage myself when she treated me and I accept her explanation.

Snape enters, but I do not acknowledge him; I have too much on my mind. What the hell happened?

"Potter, do you remember anything?"I wish, I think to myself. I shake my head and note how displeased he is. A part of me thinks it's probably Snape himself who did it.

"What _do_ you remember?"Nothing, obviously, I wonder. If I did I would bloody well have told them.

"I was in the library when I realised I had forgotten my notebook in the dorm. Just before I got back to the library I heard someone behind me. I didn't get a chance to see who it was," I pause briefly to consider the event. "Then I don't remember more." I'm slightly frustrated and put off by the ordeal.

Who the hell attacks at student? I realise it might be my _dear_ fellow Slytherins, but I almost doubt it. It seems slightly aggressive since they haven't moved that far towards their attacks. It's still all very basic from them and the only spell so far they've used is a spell that dangles me upside down and they only used it once.

The Headmaster arrives and he asks me the same questions Snape asked me; it makes me tired and Madam Pompfrey dose me with a Dreamless Sleep potion. If it wasn't for the fact that I've just read about the potion I wouldn't have taken it. The thought of not being able to wake up disturbs me, but no dreams are fine.

********

Snape has informed me that I will have to report to him every day. He seems just as disgusted by the prospect as I am, but I am pleased to realise that I won't interact directly with him. Attending meals and then being in the common room 2 hours after dinner for him to see me. Nothing big and problematic.

Despite having been reassured I still don't feel safe. This is a magical school and there's bound to be more ways to cheat, so I decide to take matters into my own hands. I question some of my teachers for upper-class lecture plans in hopes of learning how to defend myself. They all agree, perhaps somewhat hesitantly. I spend more time in the library, searching and learning. It's tough, but it's not like I have other things to do. The few times I take a break I study the other students. I wonder how my life would've been if I had been a Ravenclaw instead. Would I have had friends?

Hermione Granger, the girl who had the incident with the troll, seems to be doing good there. She's studying with her friends. I wonder if I should talk to her, but I settle at looking at her. She's pretty quick to realise, though, and is not pleased. Her demeanour turns cold and she ignores me. I move to my nook and stop studying her, freeing her from my obviously discomforting presence.

********

Snape checks up on me in the common room. He barely spares me a glance before moving onto the more _deserving_ students. Draco is almost purring under the attention, but, from what I've heard, they know each other outside of school. Perhaps he's friends with Draco's dad. It occurs to me I should probably run a background check on my teachers. I _am_ The Boy Who Lived, despite not wanting to.

Everyone sees me as it, so I might as well protect myself. Shouldn't I know who surrounds me? Who my enemies are? It seems a little psychotic, but I find that being in Slytherin I hardly have a choice anymore. I need to know who my enemies are so I can be safe; protect myself.

As Christmas approaches I finally have the breakthrough I need in regards to Legilimency. I find an explanation that informs me that it's a way to read other people's minds. They call it an Art. I have no doubt that Snape knows this Art. He's staring at me and sometimes, when my hair is less unruly and not my eyes I can feel a tinkle in my mind. I need to protect myself; I need to find out more. Unfortunately there's nothing about the Art in the library and I cannot get to restricted section.

********

Snape wants to know why I'm staying at Hogwarts through Christmas. I almost laugh at the idea of going _home_, but I manage to keep myself in check. He claims I study too much and I realise that apparently that's what the professors are thinking I'm doing. Well, in a way I am studying. It's just not what I'm taught in class, but projects of my own. I've found a funny room on the upper floors.

The elves call it the Room of Requirement or the Come-and-go-Room. I study in there, throwing spells. Not spells we learn in class, I've already been through them, but spells for the upper levels. I'm also practising spell-power. I don't understand why you have several spells in order to cast the same thing with different power.

Like blocking. The simple block only blocks certain things and I don't get it. Shouldn't magic be about intentions? If I intend my block to block out higher level spells, such as fire-spells then it should do that.

It's all very curious and I realise that people, in general, have trouble intending things and as such they make rules to get their intentions straight. But if you're clear on your intentions you wouldn't need more than one kind of spell, only the knowledge of how tough the spell is supposed to be.

I practise this idea by throwing a stunning spells at a dummy. I've read that there are many different kind of stunning spells, each harder to remove than the last. I want to throw a regular one, but to intend it to be like a higher one. All those names are too difficult to remember, I've decided.

In regards of Snape I've promised him to talk to the Dursleys about going home. I don't, of course, as I already know the answer, but construct a lie that seem reasonable. I tell him at the next opportunity I have and he is most displeased.

I'm the only Slytherin left at Hogwarts and I enjoy it fully. I relax, chill and take pleasure in the new arrangement I have with Snape. I only have to be at mealtimes and that will be it.

However, as it turns out, mealtime is spent at a single table since we're not many staying at the castle.

"Mr. Potter, looking forward to Christmas?"The Headmaster asks politely.

"Yes, sir," I reply calmly, avoiding the Headmaster's gaze purposely. Something tells me the old man knows that mind-business and until I learn how to protect my mind I will avoid his eyes. And sing carols in my mind when I do meet anyone's eyes as well as picturing snowmen.

"Lots of presents?" The Headmaster continues to enquire and I try not to make my smile look to forced, but I almost cannot be helped.

"It's going to be a great Christmas," I say. It's a weak reply, but I cannot make myself bounce around and pretend everything is great. If I'm _lucky_ I will receive a hanger or a used plaster from them.

*******

I hadn't expected any presents and as such I sleep in, enjoying the chance to be alone and not worry about people glaring at me and whatnot. However, when I wake up, I am worried to see that I have, in fact, received a gift. If anyone could see me now they'd think I'm paranoid, well, I suppose I am. I go to the library to check out books that will teach me to check things for hexes and charms; the gift turns out to be innocent.

"Your father left this in my possession before he died. Use it well."

It's a cloak, a very beautiful cloak, actually, and upon further inspection I realise it renders me invisible. That will definitely be handy and it enables me to enter the restricted section of the library.

***

I've discovered a mirror. It's the strangest mirror I've ever seen. On closer inspection I've found engravings and I see that the mirror shows me my desires. Despite that fact I come back to look into it, for it's the first time I see my parents. I always thought mum looking like a beautiful version of auntie, but she doesn't. She has red hair, gleaming eyes and smiles. My dad is thin as I assumed, tall and with glasses, too. I see where I've gotten my hair from.

I get addicted. I need to see them; need to know my past.

Dumbledore finds me after some time. He tells me about the mirror and jostle me out of my addiction. I realise the truth and force myself away, knowing that I'm being far too unconstructive.

Apparently Snape knows about the cloak and also informs me that Dumbledore gave it to me. I feel a tinkling sensation, as we speak, near my scar and I gasp, panicked, and pretend to be in pain. He's shocked, clearly, and I take my chance to run off. I need to learn how to protect my mind and I make a promise to learn it quickly. I have no doubt that he tried to check my mind and were I not aware of the Art I might've just let it pass. My discomfort for looking into people's eyes comes in handy.

********

I've found that there are wards on around the Slytherin House, keeping tabs on things. I've also found how to cross the wards without breaking them or alerting anything. The wards aren't that difficult, though. They're very simple and I assume it not to keep people in, per se, but merely to keep tabs on those entering and leaving. I realise Snape must have a device that lets him know when someone is leaving in the night. The spells I've found allows me to leave the common room and I've already found a good excuse in case I am found and asked what I'm doing outside the house at night: falling asleep in the library.

********

When Christmas is over the Slytherins start teasing me again, but it quickly fades. I've found I have an uncanny ability to fade, somehow, making people lose interest in me. It's a funny ability, but I think it's a kind of accidental magic sprung from my need of being left alone. It's a good thing to possess when I sit in the library, waiting for Pince to leave. She doesn't even see me, despite walking right past my table while checking books and such.

Alone in the library. I take out my cloak, just to be sure, and enter the restricted section. I throw some spells to check for any alarms and I find that many of the books have some kind of screaming ability. I avoid opening those, but try to remember their names.

_Wandless Arts_

The title peaks my curiosity, but it turns out it's primarily about smaller spells and how to perform them. It mention humans not capable of accessing magic without a wand, since it will become uncontrolled. It's not interesting and I move to put it back. That's when I see it. Legilimency.

There's a small note about it in the back telling about the mind. There's not much, but I find some references to other books that sounds vaguely like wizarding psychology books.

The library has them, luckily, but again there's little about the Art. There is, however, the titles of the two books concerning directly with the Art. Having learned a summoning charm over the vacation I try to summon the books, but there's nothing. I decide to write to the bookstore for help at next opportunity.

********

I've gotten reply from the bookstore. They're sad to say they have nothing on the Art, but are kind to direct me to another source. I scribble to the source and hope that this time I'll be lucky.

I sneak out of the House after curfew to send the letter and then go to the Quidditch pitch. I wonder what it's like to fly; I imagine it's liberating. I decide to try and go to the Slytherin storeroom to get a few things that might ensure my safety. I find some old gloves that'll keep me warm and then an old broom. I try to do what we were supposed to have been taught at the Quidditch lesson in the beginning of the year and put the broom on the ground.

"Up!" I call and the broom fly into my steady grasp easily. I slip on in, taking a few deep breaths, and then let go of the ground. It feels easy, controllable, and I urge the broom forward. It _is_ easy, I decide, when I put a little more power in it.

Before long I'm flying around easily, quick and precise, and it really _is_ liberating. I throw pebbles into the air and fly to catch them. When I'm done I decide it's time for bed and slowly descend.

"What the hell are you doing out of bed?" A voice snarls at me. A part of me recognise the voice instantly as Snape's and I cannot help but take a step back. "Potter, it's the middle of the night! How did you get past my wards?"

I take a steadying breath and reply "I- I never went to bed. I fell asleep in the library!" Snape doesn't look surprised and I continue "I needed some air and I came here, thinking I'd try." Snape is looking at me with a strange calculating look I cannot understand.

"Potter, this is your first time?" He asks and I nod. "What about training?"

"It was disrupted by Neville Longbottom breaking his wrist." I hadn't bothered to attend the voluntary try-out afterwards, as I had found the game unnecessary.

"So this was your first time?" He asks again. I find myself suspicious by his lack of anger and I wonder what he's wondering about. "Potter..." His voice is deliberate and careful; I narrow my eyes. "You play decently." I stare at him. _Impossible_, a part of me says. This cannot be Snape. I wonder if there's a way to change into other people, but I don't recognise anything from what I've been taught in class or taught myself.

"Sir?" I ask and Snape smirks at me. He wants something from me, I realise. This _is_ Snape.

"You could be a decent seeker. I will have Flint contact you to arrange a test in the morning." I almost gape at him, but this only confirms my theory that Snape is up to something.

"You-you want me to play, Sir?" I question uncertain and Snape scowls at me.

"Yes, Potter. You should be happy to be allowed this chance. As a First-Year no less! Would you rather serve detention with Filch?" I shake my head uncertain. I'm honestly not entirely sure whether or not I want detention, since I don't entirely trust Snape.

"Can... I think about it?" Snape looks at me with incredulous eyes when I ask.

"Is it so difficult to make a choice here and now? Most children would love to take your place." _Yes, most people want to take my place_, I tell myself. I wonder if they're so willing if they knew the truth. Snape tells me Flint will contact me and then I'm escorted back to the House. I wonder why Snape wants me to play. He must get something out of it, but what? He's never given me any indication that he wants _me_ to be happy, so what does he gain from my playing? I promise to look into it tomorrow.

Flint finds me as one of the first things in the morning. He tells me he's spoken to Snape and that he want to take me to the field to test me. I haven't gotten the chance yet to look into why Snape wants me to play, so I decline, not wanting to be a pawn in whatever game Snape's playing. Flint is not pleased and I watch him leave to find Snape. I'm wandering about in the Trophy room, looking at the Quidditch history when I see it. James Potter, seeker. He was a seeker for Gryffindor. I realise this must be why Snape wants me to play; it probably amusing to him to have me playing for _Slytherin._Snape's jabbing at me, often comparing me to my father, assures me they were obvious enemies.

When I get back Flint tells me Snape wants to see me and with a sigh I go to see him. Despite being very calm I have a feeling that I should probably look less calm. I've found Snape takes pleasure in trying to take you down if show too much confidence, so I pretend to be anxious and it makes me feel a little silly. I am, however, rewarded when he gets straight to the point instead of taking time in mocking me first.

"Potter, what makes you so much better than the rest of us? You will not play for your house?"

"No, sir," I reply.

"Why?" Snape barks, but it's not rough.

"I... I don't like it," He doesn't like my answer; that much is clear. I'm not surprised though, I hadn't expected he would.

"You just like flying? How..._nice_..." We both fall silent. I wait for Snape to continue while I think of excuses not to play.

"Potter, I have a proposition for you," Snape informs and I look at him surprised, but curious. "You will play for Slytherin this year and then I won't assign you detentions." I meet his gaze. Is he serious? Is he trying to bribe me into playing? It does have merits, though.

"This year only? This season out?" I question, trying to be certain. It could be worse, I assume. I have no doubt if I refuse he will find a way to give me detentions, warranted or not. If I do this perhaps he will eventually leave me alone?

"This season. I will not assign detention before next year nor dock points." I'm not sure if I should trust him, but on the other side saying no and not giving him what he wants will make him hate me even more. "And I won't abuse this the following year and I won't retaliate on whatever lack of detentions I think I've lost this year next year; the same with points." I understand, I think.

"No retaliation the next year? Or points ducked" I confirm. "Why?" I cannot help but ask and I almost regret it.

"We both get something out of it." I'm surprised that he so willingly answers. It makes me realise that I can use it to my benefit in the future. If I give him something I'll get something in return as well. "I get to win the cup with you, hopefully, and you are on a looser leash."

"Is this about my father?" I ask again, calmly. I continue to explain, "I saw a plate with his name in the Trophy Room when I did detention with Filch last time." _No need to point out I had deliberately looked for explanations_. Snape doesn't answer and I realise he's realised that I know it is. "I want you to grade me fairly," I can see the surprise in Snape when I voice this out loud. He smile mockingly at me and string me along.

"I am grading you fairly," I'm not dumb, but I don't respond. I've gotten something precious out of this and it was more than I could've asked for: I've found out how to get Snape to give me what I want. Now how to actually put it into practice without giving him all he wants is the next project.

********

I'm being well trained. Every day, basically, I'm on the field. I dislike being away from my studies, personal studies anyway, but I let it go for now. It bothers me that I don't have a clear overview as to how this will work out, but I imagine I will understand things better when I have time to mentally process it all.

Before the match I safely add a few charms to make sure I won't fall off. If I do fall off, for some silly reason, I dare not think of what Snape will do. Better safe than sorry.

It turns out it wasn't a bad idea. Half-way into the match my broom starts to act funny. For a minute or so I have little control over my broom, but luckily the charms keep me in place and the perpetrator let go of the idea of harming me. I wonder who it is and I cannot help but look towards Snape. Would he do something like that? Did I read him wrong and he just wanted to humiliate me in front of the school?

I catch the snitch and the game is won. Slytherin is ecstatic, but I note that I'm not the one they're giving credit. It bothers me a little, since we were close to the other team in points before I caught the snitch.

********

I'm staring at Snape, but he merely shakes his head and informs me there's nothing he can do. I knew that, but I had hoped nonetheless. I had forgotten my cloak and McGonagall caught me and now I am to serve detention with 3 Gryffindors. They do not look happy by the prospect and glare at me. I promise myself not to be bothered and accept the detention with Hagrid, a giant-like man, who is taking us to the woods.

We split up, me and Ronald Weasley along with Fang, Hagrid's dog, go one way and Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan go with Hagrid another way. Ron and I follow a trail of silver, keeping talking to a minimum. The few times we speak Ron is mainly curious about me, but when I answer he sneers at me, remembering that I'm a Slytherin and that I must be up to something. It's silly really and I, once again, wonder what would've happened had I been sorted into another house.

What would've happened had I been sorted into Gryffindor? My dad was a Gryffindor and I wonder which house my mum was sorted into.

We're not alone.

The hairs in my neck is standing and when Ron and I round a tree we see a Unicorn lying dead a few feet away. A dark shadow is by it and a terrible slurping sound is heard. Ron freaks out and runs off and I would too had I not been rooted to the ground. My old scar is flaming and I am sure it must be blistering; it feels like scorching and I can only watch as the dark figure moves towards me, his intentions clear.

Hoves.

Something jumps out from the bushes nearby, startling the dark figure. I've never seen something like it, but I know, nonetheless, exactly what it is. Centaur.

"Harry Potter," it turns to me, eyes burning into mine.

"You're a centaur," I state, surprised and pleasantly intrigued. He laughs and nods before asking me if I know who the figure was. I don't, but I am not dumb either and I voice the idea I have. The logical choice. Voldemort.

He nods and walks around me calmly, taking me in with his eyes while telling me about the stars. I wonder if there's a hidden message, but I cannot seem to get it right then and there. He tells me to be careful, that there is evil afoot at Hogwarts. Hogwarts is hiding something valuable and it must be protected at all cost, lest _he_ return. I nod, despite not understanding anything, but he doesn't seem to realise.

"Firenze!" A booming voice is heard and I recognise Hagrid. Firenze nod towards Hagrid and takes his leave. I'm taken to the hospital wing to make sure I'm well and Snape gets the events from Weasley. It bothers me that Snape knows, but I cannot do anything about it.

Snape takes the opportunity to talk to me about Quidditch as well. I'm somewhat miffed to find out that he wants to make sure I understand that Slytherin must win. I'm on the sick-bed and he wants to threaten me into winning. What an utter bastard!

I promise I'll do my best, despite the hatred I feel towards him. He could at least tell me to get well or something like that.

We do win and I retreat quickly, having no pleasant feelings towards any of the Slytherins. I feel used, unable to shake the feeling off that they only care as long as I can give them something.

********

Exams are quiet and easy. The fact that I don't have any friends makes me avoid the mass-hysteria the students work themselves into when they talk about the exams. It's funny that this is now, in the pressing periods, that I enjoy being alone. I avoid the hysteric people and manage to be calm enough at the exams to do well. They're not really difficult and I'm surprised why the other 1st years are freaking out so much. We only go through the things we've learned through the year, so if we have our lesson plan we can revise and remember. It's simple and easy.

********

I've been training in the Room of Requirement to get my frustrations out. I've found that I've gotten anxious about returning to the Dursleys. At the same time, however, I'm also strangely calm, because I know if things fuck up I can leave; I have money so I'm not totally screwed.

I'm on the landing of the 3rd floor, waiting for a staircase to come my way when I see Quirrel. I haven't seen him for a while, since it's exam period, and I wonder how he's faring. He looks anxious, panicked, actually, and asks me to stay where I am. I comply and when he reach me he grasp my shoulder and tells me to follow him. He's muttering under his breath, telling me how glad he is he found me. Tells me how difficult life is, that he's never alone, but that it will soon change.

It makes me anxious and I try to tell him I have to go, but his grip turns rough and pins me to the ground. Against him I have little strength and I am forced to follow.

A three-headed dog is in the next room and I am officially freaked out. I tell the Professor that, but he doesn't listen to me He tells me it's too late and he's happy he met it as it makes things easier. His Master will be so pleased. He tells me that it was him who had attacked me earlier, but glad I survived, because his _Master_ will be pleased to do it himself.

Panic

Darkness overwhelm me.

When I wake up I'm lying on the floor in a circular room. Quirrel is standing not far away, staring in a mirror and talking aloud.

"I see myself holding the stone... but _where_ is it?" His voice is frustrated and as I look closer I recognise the mirror. It's the magical mirror. The mirror of desire.

"Use the boy!" A voice hiss and my scar erupts in pain. I cannot tell where the voice is coming from and I don't have the time as Quirrel hauls me to my feet and force me in front of the mirror.

I see myself in the mirror take something from my pocket; a blood-red stone. I put it in my pocket and at the same time I feel something dump into my pocket. I dare not breathe. Quirrel tells me to tell him what I see and I tell him I see my parents. The hissing voice is heard again; it wants to speak to me. Quirrel is uncertain, but complies and removes the scarf around his head. I'm frightened to see a face sticking out from the back of his head.

"Harry Potter, you see what I've become?" The face asks, spitting as he talks. I barely nod and all I can think about it running. He laughs a high-pitched laugh. "It doesn't have to be this way," he tells me, but I don't reply. I don't know what _this way_ is. "I can overlook the prophecy if you join me," I hardly understand what he's talking about. "Join me and together we can rule the world," he continues.

It all makes me very confused. I'm not entirely sure about anything. "Would you like to see your parents again? I can make it happen!" He promise and I shake my head, uncertain.

"If you just give me the stone in your pocket!" His knowledge frightens me and I step back. Voldemort tells Quirrel to get me and I find myself shoved back rough against the stones. I try to push him off, but I cannot. Instead I try to scratch him, but when our skin meets Quirrel screams.

His skin darkens turns to dust; his hands fall away from me, nonexistent. I know what I must do and I lounge myself at him, pressing my hands into his face.

Voldemort free himself from Quirrel as Quirrel dies. His scream is filled with anger and he disappears. I manage to stay upright for another few seconds before falling to the floor, unconscious.

When I wake up I am accosted by bright light. I flinch, uncertain of my whereabouts. Then I remember what happened and I manage a few deep breaths

Madame Pompfrey informs me that she's told the Headmaster I'm awake and he should be arriving shortly. It makes me uncomfortable. I feel I'm missing something and answering questions or dealing with it, before my mind has dealt with the events, makes me confused.

"So, Harry," the Headmaster begins, his smile is bright and easy-going. It makes me wonder if what I remember really happened, since no one should be so calm about it. "Do not fret, you're not in trouble," well, I should bloody well hope not. I'm pretty sure I haven't done anything wrong and that preventing Voldemort from getting what he wanted was a good thing. It's one of those universal things that no one will hate you for in you do it right. "Are you alright?" The Headmaster asks and I ponder the question.

I nod, obscuring my vision with my hair to be on the safe side and the say "What was he after?"

"You do not know?" The question bothers me, I realise. It means the Headmaster can adjust his answers to what I know and avoid anything else. I won't be getting the entire truth.

"No, sir. I met Quirrel in the hallway. I had been wandering the upper floors, since there aren't so many students there, and was on my way back. I was on the landing of the 3rd floor, waiting for a staircase to move my way when he saw me. He said to stay and took me into the hallways of the 3rd floor..." I pause, uncertain of whether or not I should tell _everything_.

"Did he hurt you?" The Headmaster questions and I look up at him. The worry in his eyes seems truthful and I shake my head. I find myself calm in the knowledge that the Headmaster is glad to see me well and doesn't want anything from me.

"No... He... talked. He talked about not being alone; people watching him. Said it was good that he had run into me..." I pause for a few seconds to relax my mind. "I don't remember much after that. He took me to the room with that... that Cerberus!" Why anyone would keep such a dog in a school is beyond me and I hope my exclamation has indicated it. I realise they're waiting for me to continue.

"I don't remember more from then on. I tried to get away, nothing really made sense... and then I was there; in the room with the mirror." I pause and glance at Snape. I had expected that he was mixed into it somehow, but the Professor is innocent. So he simply hates me, then? "He... he started screaming when I touched him. And ..." I struggle to figure out what to say.

"We believe Lord Voldemort might've possessed the Professor," the Headmaster states and I nod in acceptance. I had already figured that one out, seen it for myself.

"I saw him. He was in the back of his head..." Snape leaves and I'm left alone with the Headmaster. I have questions, questions that need answers and now that we're alone the time has come. "He'll come back again, won't he?" The Headmaster looks at me startled and the sighs.

"I never believed that he was truly gone, eventually he'll find a way to come back," he looks at me carefully and I mask my expression. I quickly realise, however, that that might not be the right away to go about it. He frowns at it and I worry that he, too, is prejudiced against Slytherins. I opt for a more childish look and bite my lip and pull the duvet tighter around me.

"He mentioned a prophecy," I mention and am surprised when the Headmaster shifts in his seat in obvious discomfort. What is he hiding?

"One day, Harry, you will know. For now, however, you shall relax and enjoy your youth," I nod in pretended acceptance. This is not good enough. If I have some kind of madman after me I need to know and not go around pretending that everything is jolly well.

"What about the stone?" I question, taking up a different track. He nods and smiles and informs me that the Philosophers stone has been taken care of. The name rings a bell, but I opt to finding out about it myself rather than ask. If the Headmaster is deluding himself into believing that keeping me in the dark is best then clearly I cannot trust him with information.

We talk loosely about the events and I try to pry out a little more; the Headmaster is adamant in keeping me _innocent_. I make a passing remark if it's safe to be at the Dursleys if Voldemort is out there and I am rewarded when Dumbledore informs me of my parent's deaths and the bond I have with my aunt. I don't press the matter anymore as I am worried if he'll lie to me if he feels too cornered.

I don't want to point out the obvious: that thousands of families were murdered and it's incredibly unlikely that my mum was the only one who begged to be killed instead of their child.

It must've happened a lot of time; parents begging for mercy, begging the Death Eaters to spare their children. But then why was I the only one which the curse rebounded on? Does it have something to do with the prophecy Voldemort mentioned? The prophecy Dumbledore told me not to think about.

It's just one more thing I have to find out about my past and I promise to start to second I reach London. I _will_ found out the truth!

* * *

**Hello! Please leave a review for this chapter!**


	8. 2nd Year CH 1

**Please remember:** There is **no** relationship between Snape and Harry. Or Harry and Hermione. Or Ginny. Or anyone else, for that matter.

**Someone asked if this was how Tom Riddle started out and I think so. The detachment, lack of feelings, in the house makes some people lose themselves. If there's a leader in Slytherin I think people distance themselves, probably out of respect, but it creates a detached atmosphere for the person.**

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Harry Potter - 2nd year**

* * *

**Chapter 1 **

The brats have barely left the castle when the Professors follow their example. Most plan not to come back until the beginning of the year again, except for a few people. Pomona comes back sporadically throughout the vacation to tend her plants and Trelawney never leaves. Albus, I know, comes around sporadically as well, but besides them none are back before the last week of the summer to prepare.

Albus has been kind to extend his influence to give me opportunity to search and collect ingredients from the Amazonas. I get my own personal guide for 2 weeks, giving me the chance to collect all that I can.

Most of the ingredients found in the Amazonas can be found many other places, but, as it is, the location of the Amazonas on the earth as well as the climate enhance their potency.

My guide doesn't like me, I note, upon greeting him. He glares at me and motion for me to follow him. I am not too bothered, though, as I expected it somewhat; this isn't my first time visiting. Most of the guides hate Potion Masters, as their legends only informs them that we're evil people that create Dark Arts potions. None of them seem to realise the _good_ things potions can be used for. It's a wonder they even dare to be as ill-mannered around us as we _could_ poison them and they believe we do little else than poisoning people.

Thought, I should note that most potions masters does have a tendency to lean towards the darker aspect. It's simply more interesting and fascinating than brewing pepper-up-potions and whatnot for medical institutes.

***

I'm tired when I return back to Hogwarts. There's little over a week left and I have potions to brew for the infirmary and my own projects started on. The last few weeks after my trip to the Amazonas were spent at potions-seminars. I'm saddened by the dark cloud hanging over the Art.

Ingredients are expensive, nowadays, and creating complex potions, potions that will further the wizarding society, takes time, structure, will, interest and, most of all: money.

The Art is expensive and no one has the money to study all the time, so most do like me: acquire a job and save up money for the vacations when we can use a little precious time to ourselves and try to change current potions or concoct new ones.

Due to the lack of focus on the Art few things has been discovered in the last many years, which is a shame, for there's a great potential, and it makes potions-seminars somewhat boring. I used to attend the seminars to compare notes and hear of new ideas and see how far people have come in their experiments. Now we compare notes, fling out ideas that usually fall to the ground due to lack of proper time.

I suppose I should praise myself lucky. Many great Masters have fallen in the years, due to the price. People such as Russian Gravochi and Greek Arasthele, who used to be great Masters and role models for many up-coming Masters, such as myself, have fallen low and now hardly have time or ability to continue the Art.

I have Dumbledore. He knows the importance of the Art, though many other people don't believe in it. There are great, and easy, ways with a wand to dispel potions, but likewise there are also many potions with ability to do things spells cannot.

It's strange, really. Despite what a known and taught branch of magic potions is, it's much obscured.

***

I find Albus in his office and am surprised to see Minerva there, looking like she's going to explode. I raise an eyebrow at Albus and he looks a little uncomfortable by my presence. I wonder why he would be so and prod at the tension between them.

"_Albus_," Minerva stress angrily, "have managed to hire the most incompetent teacher, _ever_!" She glares at Albus and I roll my eyes and plop down into a chair.

"Is it possible?" I drawl and then continue, "I would've thought a teacher trying to kill a student would be worse than anything," I say sarcastically and she snorts.

"Oh, _he_ won't be able to kill Potter this year," she snarls, but with Potter's ability to get himself in trouble I have no doubt that there will be a possibility. Minerva continues, "He won't have the time between talking about himself and looking at himself in a mirror." I frown, wondering who the person is. I turn to Albus, who seems to try to pull himself together to look confident.

"Who?" I ask slowly.

"Gilderoy Lockhart," Minerva's voice is filled with disgust and she continues, "for once, Albus, get a teacher who can actually teach! Have you seen the books he wants them to read? Have you _read_ the books?" She stares at Albus, but I do not know this Gilderoy Lockhart and wonder if he's a former student whom was one of the unfortunate few to ever get on Minerva's bad side.

Minerva notice my incomprehension and clarify, "Lockhart is an incompetent fool," she claims and continue, "where Quirrel was afraid of his own mirror-image you can trust Lockhart will be spellbound by it and hard to pry away. The man spends more time on his hair than on saving people. I doubt he ever did any of the things he claims he's done!"

"Minerva," Albus finally say, "There are witnesses..." _Ahh, Albus seems to grasp at straws. _Albus knows that people can be swayed and it would appear Minerva claims the victims of the ordeal to have been swayed by Lockhart. She must know Lockhart from somewhere else than Hogwarts, then, since Albus seemingly doesn't know Lockhart.

I leave them to continue arguing in order to find my lab, but by some lucky stroke I run into the man himself. It cannot be anyone but Lockhart, I note with disdain. The man is checking himself in a suit of armour, touching his hair softly here and there. He seems to notice my presence, probably in the armour, and I am almost surprised by the difficulty he has with turning away from himself.

"Ah!" He exclaims, "You must be a Hogwarts Professor!" He moves towards me and extend his hand. I cross my arms tighter across my chest and stare at him. Better to lay down the rules right away, my instincts tell me. He seems unaffected by my glare and smile at me almost radiantly. I almost close my eyes.

"I am Gilderoy Lockhart, winner of the Witch Weekly Charming Smile ..." he falters finally when I resolve to looking murderous. It wasn't my intention, but his entire demeanour is impossible; I did not believe anyone _sane_ could exist and be like that. He stares at me for a few seconds and I reply tersely that I hope he will have better luck than his predecessor, though I do not, really, hope so. Will all luck he will fall down a staircase while checking himself in a mirror.

This, however, changes my plans, I realise as I go on my way to lunch a little while later. I can hear the man in the Great Hall, exclaiming things, loudly, and I decide that I should take up Lucius's offer of a visit.

***

I trek through the long road from the entrance of the grounds and to the mansion itself. It's not a long trek, a few minutes or so, but it's _unnecessary_. But then again, I muse, everything the Malfoy family does is almost unnecessary.

A screech breaks the silence and I look over where a few peacocks are strutting about. Were you not aware where you're going then you would have a good guess upon seeing the peacocks. Proud and vain animals that reflects the family itself. I could never give out such easy information about myself, but Lucius doesn't seem to mind.

Then again, I was a spy and that might've changed the way I look at things. The more people know about you the better chance they have at striking you. The Malfoy house-elf lets me inside.

"Professor!" A voice greets me enthusiastically upon me entering the mansion. I turn my gaze to the staircase and watch Draco descend with perfect Malfoy-pose.

"Draco," I greet him easily and he grins at me as I lay away the formality. I want him to trust me, after all. He asks me politely about my summer and I make a quick comment before asking about his. He takes his time, enjoying the praise I offer once in a while.

"Severus!" Lucius's voice calls out and both Draco and I turn to see Lucius arrive. Draco leaves us and we move to Lucius's private parlour. He is kind to give me Narcissa's regards and I ask him to give her mine when he sees her next. He motions for me to sit as he pours something to drink for us. We small talk a little about the summer, my trips and such, but we change curse quickly as I know he doesn't really care. Lucius was never for subtlety beyond that of his words. But, when it comes to words, Lucius is an expert at knowing what to say to achieve his goals. He's a good judge of characters, which sometimes makes me wonder why he never saw through me.

I don't really want to know that, though. We never discuss the past, as such. We discuss _other_ people's actions, but never our own.

"I see that the position as the DADA teacher is once more taken up by someone else than you," he notes when the conversation land on Dumbledore. I snort in disgust and he smiles at my reaction. We talk loosely about Hogwarts and past Professors and then eventually Draco. I mention the talent the boy is showing, but that he needs a proper focus. Lucius agrees and is delighted that I am willing to guide his son.

"I hear Harry Potter is in Slytherin as well," Lucius mention as a side-comment. I look up from the light lunch we're having and pause. His nonchalance at the matter is clearly pretended and I snort at his attempt; he rolls his eyes at me. I do not let the matter drop, though.

"I had expected, though," I casually reply, "that Draco would've befriended the _boy_," I sip my tea calmly and then look up at him. He's leaning back, staring at me directly in a way that lets me know we're moving towards uncertain territory.

"Draco shows no interest in the boy?" Lucius asks in reassurance and I nod to confirm and tell him that no one takes interest in the boy. Lucius nods thoughtfully and I wait for him to elaborate. "I am... uncertain about the future," again he looks at me in a solemn way and I realise he knows, especially after the last semester, that the dark lord will return. "I thought it best to... not interact with the _boy_." The conversation ends at that and we both sit in our respective silence and reminisce about the past.

***

I'm cheerful. Not because my life is especially good, but because I know a lot of people wish they were me right now. More precisely: the other Hogwarts professors wish they were me and had a proper excuse to get away from Lockhart. I am beyond pleased that he won't come near my brewing as it messes with his hair; which is a curious thing since he claims to have made countless of potions and says he's somewhat an expert.

***

Time seems to pass quickly and I find myself sitting at the Head Table watching as the students arrive. Lockhart, who luckily sits far away from me, is talking to Felius about the students. For once Lockhart's appearance seems true and eager. This is an appearance all new Professors go through, I've noted through the years.

I scan the Slytherin table calmly and note all students who are expected to return have indeed returned. I continue to subtly check if anyone seems altered in ways they should not. While it's a discouraging thing to think of I know many children can get hurt at home. The people in Slytherin, whilst powerful and influential, have a few _issues_ with their tempers.

Discouraged, despite knowing I'd see _the boy_ again I watch as Potter sits, sliding almost with something akin to a grace into his seat. _Grace? Potter? Must be hunger_.

There is nothing graceful about Potter. His black hair in unruly as ever, a bit longer than I remembered, possibly, but I am pleased to note that he haven't forgotten his manners over the summer.

The students are sorted and only a very small handful of students are sorted into Slytherin and I note that they all have Slytherin heritage as their parents were Slytherins themselves. It makes things much easier when the children know what to expect.

***

I make my customary speech to the new Slytherins and the let them go to bed. I stand back, watching as the older students catch up with each other. I feel someone gazing at me and I instantly scan the common room to see who is watching me. I am almost surprised when my eyes land on deep green eyes staring at me intently from behind locks of hair. _Potter_.

I meet his gaze steadily, unafraid, but I find myself discomforted by something; my body is tingling uncomfortably. I sneer at him coldly and the moment of discomfort is broken. I spin around and leave the common room; I find myself somehow ill at ease for some reason. The idea that Potter started it amuses me. The boy made me ill. I laugh mentally at the new stage my hatred has reached.

Despite the humour I still, however, feel strangely uncomfortable.

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	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 2**

It's the first day of classes and already I'm near at beating my own personal record at handing out detentions. Seven have been given out so far. People seem to have forgotten that potions need delicacy and one cannot simply turn your back to it.

Very, very few students seem to grasp that handling the potions wrongly might result in explosions of various degrees. Only a few of them pay attention.

I cannot deny it, and I am loath to admit it, but there are no students in the Slytherin house who seem to grasp that. It's only Ravenclaw and some from Hufflepuff who grasp it. But then again; they don't have to worry about the other houses who are trying to meddle with their potions. Gryffindor and Slytherin are hell to have in combined class.

For some silly reason the Headmaster doesn't seem to grasp that the two houses shouldn't be in the same room with each other. Perhaps I should just let the children die and he might realise his error? _No…_ I cannot help but sigh. Killing the students would only cause trouble; sadly. Sometimes I just wish I could let them do whatever they want to; it might teach them a lesson. Having your entire body severely disfigured by a potion might teach them to be careful the next time. But no, that won't work either. I cannot get myself to just stand by idle and watch events unfold. It is, after all, my classroom and I too easy get headaches.

No, I am wrong, I suddenly realise as I watch the Slytherin/Gryffindor combined second year potions class on the second day of classes. Potter is watching his doings with an intensity I haven't seen before. I cannot figure out how he got so focussed on the subject or how he realised how careful one has to be when dealing with potions, but the boy _knows_.

He feels my concentrated gaze on him and his eyes flicker to mine for a second. He drops the vial in his hand and bends to pick it up and forcefully shove Parkinson into her workstation resulting in her cauldron falling to the floor. It's a mess worthy of Longbottom. It would appear the boy only concentrated so much because he is dumb and was trying to focus. _Silly boy._

Perhaps not so clever, I note to myself, almost pleased that the Potter I know is back in his right form: a clumsy, insignificant boy. I assign him detention and he accepts it quietly. As the other students file out I watch the boy clean up after the incident. I am uncertain, but I swear to myself he seems... anxious. And yet his hands are steady and his pose collected. It's conflicting to watch and I am uncertain of what to make of it. If only I could read his mind...

"Potter, come here," I bark at the boy. He rises from his crouched form and again I find conflicting appearances. His walk towards me is steady, but his hands are fumbling anxiously. I wonder at it briefly, not sure if the boy is pretending to be anxious and trying to be calm. I go for calm as he bites his lower lip, worriedly. The boy couldn't act to save his life.

"Yes, sir," he says, not in a questioning way. Or perhaps it is? I cannot be certain. I can feel a headache coming on, but the boy is finally looking me in the eye and I want to find out what he's up to. He's up to something, I know. That's how Potters are.

"Your careless movements are a danger to my classroom;" I inform him. He nods dumbly and I wonder if he's about to cry. He's lips a pulled back in a grimace akin to one about to burst. I've never seen Potter whine, though, and I briefly relish in the idea. He doesn't though, but seems to collect himself. "You will serve detention..." I briefly consider myself, but I cannot stand the thought, "-With Lockhart."

I smirk when I notice brief disgust flitter through his expression. I cannot help but add that he and Lockhart will probably have a fun time basking in each other's glorious company. He agrees dutifully, but I assume that it's because he doesn't want to seem eager at the prospect or disrespectful by not answering. I would have assigned Filch, I tell him, but the seven earlier detentions are filling up Filch's calendar and Lockhart will probably terrify the boy enough with his nonsense.

Perhaps Potter will even use his mind better when it comes to his hero-status and he won't end up like a little arrogant prince that he is now. I tell him that and watch his jaws clench together. He cannot do anything else but accept it and I rejoice in the fact that I am the boss; I have the upper hand.

He considers me for a few moments, waiting for me to dismiss him, and I briefly deliberate only the ethic of reading his mind. _No one will know and I just need to make sure he's behaving_ I tell myself. I delve into his eyes when there's an opening between the fringes of his hair.

I collide with something ... The boy is gasping and clutching his head. He looks angry for a second, but it quickly changes to something akin to pain.

"May I go? I don't feel so well!" He gasps out and I nod numbly and watch him flee from the dungeon. _I made him ill?_ I ponder at the event. Did he feel I broke into his mind? Surely not, the boy is only 12, I reason. But... he felt _something_. That much is clear. Perhaps I need to be more subtle? And what did I collide with? It seemed, for a second, I was sure I collided with _something_. But the boy cannot know how to Occlude his mind, it's impossible. Even if he had become aware of the art it would take a lot of strength of him. Children simply don't have the focus it takes to practise.

That's what I tell myself, but something in me... clenches.

***

Dinner has ended and Lockhart has been telling me that he'll have a stern talk with "young Harry" about "certain things" in his detention with the boy after dinner. I almost pity the boy for what he's facing in his detention; almost.

In the end I cannot take more of the idiotic man's continuous prattle and I leave. The dungeon is a refuge with its foreboding sense and I pride myself lucky knowing Lockhart will never enter unless forced for some inane reason.

The hallway splits into three different paths and as I am about to take the one leading to my office I hear a voice. I cannot tell what's being said, but the tone is aggravated and annoyed. _We're not even into the first week properly and the students are already fighting,_ I muse and stalk through the hallway towards the voice.

"What's going on?" I demand just as I turn around the corner. Potter and an elf are standing in the darkness. The elf, which looks oddly familiar, squeaks and disappears with a pop and Potter turn towards me, his expression changes to a flushing anger when he sees me.

"Potter," I snarl at him, "while you may be a student here at Hogwarts treating the elves like your personal slaves are _not _accepted!" His hands are clenched to his sides and he stares at me angrily, still. I can see his emotions in his expression, anger, hatred... something else and then... calm.

"It was not a Hogwarts elf," the boy tells with a calm voice when I'm done ranting at his inappropriate behaviour. As if I will believe that. His family are muggles and there's no way they have a house-elf. I tell him so and he frowns at me; probably because I caught him in his lie.

"Despicable how you think you can act without consequences," I tell the boy angrily, more angry than, perhaps, the situation is warranted. I cannot help but feel the boy is abusing everyone around him. Such an arrogant boy who thinks he can treat everyone as he wants. I tell him that and then I step back from him consciously. My anger at his arrogance is too great and I don't want a repeat of what happened last year.

I give him another detention and tell him to go meet Lockhart for his first detention. I watch him leave. What a spoiled little boy; arrogant and self-important.

***

Potter is avoiding me. His demeanour is cold towards me and indifferent. While this would make me happy on any normal day I dislike the fact that he feels that he can take his petty anger out on me.

Before dinner the day after his detention I run into him. At his souring expression I call him to stop and explain himself.

"Potter, your lack of respect towards me is becoming a serious problem," I inform him. "I am your Professor and you will respect me as such!" I watch the boy stare at me with something akin to anger. _Just like his father,_ I muse. James was so easy to anger as well.

I watch him struggle and I realise that he wants to reply. I am amused. I tell him so and ask him if his reply is worth a detention. He considers it and then nods.

"I don't deserve detention for what I have to say," his words surprise me and I consider him slowly, waiting for him to elaborate. He realises I'm waiting and continue. "You haven't given me a reason to respect you, on the contrary..." His meaning hits me before he finishes and he falls silent. _I haven't done anything for him?_ _Did I not allow him to play Quidditch? Did I not tell the other students not to bother him? _I tell him what an ungrateful brat he is and how his family will know of his deplorable manners. My rant is stopped when I am out of breath and I step back from him, after having found myself hovering over the _boy_. I tell him to get rid of himself before I dock a lifetime of detentions.

What a disgrace! I go to my office and write several drafts to his family before finally settling on something that won't make me sound as if I just killed their nephew and will be coming for them soon.

_Mr. and Mrs. Dursley_

_As your nephew's Head of House I am writing to inform you that your nephew is lacking in manners towards his elders._

_I shall appreciate if you contact him before he ends up in a situation too serious to overlook._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Severus Snape,_

_Potions Master of Hogwarts_

The letter is simple and precise, and leaves it up to them to deal with their nephew, and I stalk towards the owlery with every intention of sending it. However, as I get closer I cannot forget the events that have just transpired. The _boy_ wasn't entirely incorrect. Surely his manners _are_ deplorable and he could probably need a good _detention_, but... something... in my mind makes me not send the letter.

The child was right, but nevertheless... he _is_ ungrateful. Just because I don't walk around throwing roses at him doesn't mean I'm evil. I actually put a sticking charm on his broom last year! Without it he'd have fallen!

A dark part of my mind, which I squash quickly, informs me that all the things I've done I've done to get something bigger in return. Last year I got him on the team so _I_ could gloat in front of Minerva and...

Screw that. I don't need his appreciation. I'll leave him be and then he can take care of himself. Let him handle whatever situations he encounters without my help. I send the letter, nevertheless, and hope it will be the out of my hands now. His family will correct him, hopefully sternly instead of what they've probably been doing so far.

***

Dinner that evening is subdued for me. I am confused beyond incomprehensible in regards to Potter. His demeanour is conflicting, but I resolve in believing the boy is trying _not_ to be scared. I cannot seem to predict him and the fact that he is so _blind_ to what I do for him doesn't lessen the disgust I have towards him.

I barely listen when I hear Lockhart mention the boy. Of course he'd mention him. They're probably best pals.

"What happened yesterday?" Minerva asks confused but with a hint of worry. She's looking at Lockhart, who is smiling calmly at her.

"Oh dear Minerva!" Lockhart exclaims and smiles at her. She glowers. "Dear Harry and I were simply up till late signing fan-mail and the boy got a little tired," he laughs a little. "He kept asking if I had just said something, so sure I had spoken aloud," the man shakes his head and Minerva tells Lockhart not to keep Potter up too late tonight. He's, after all, a young, growing boy who needs time to sleep between his studies and _detentions_. When adding the last she looks at me pointedly and I ignore her. No one was ever hurt from a few detentions, I tell myself.

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**Please review**


	10. Chapter 10

**Someone mentioned that Snape might be too blind, but imagine that he knows that it's only him who watches Potter as closely like he does and that the other teachers love Harry, well like him a lot, because he's humble. Snape wants to see James, and does to a certain extent. In later chapters, possibly 3****rd**** year I think I will switch POV, so that you get a more wholesome view of Harry.**

**But know that Snape hates Harry and dislike the notion of the prophecy, the idea that his life is in Harry's hands. Also, Snape is so certain of "rules", so when he believes something is impossible it becomes so, because his mind is so set against anything else. So he sees Harry as spoiled, because he wants to. He wants to hate him.**

**Love it blind, but so is hatred.**

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**Chapter 3**

The first official staff-meeting is in full swing. Once more I've taken up the seat in the back, watching the proceedings almost with boredom. Lockhart is _entertaining_ with stories about his many _glorious_ deeds, his books and his first class.

"And what was that incident about the pixies?" I cannot help but question. One of the Slytherins informed me of what had happened in the first class with Lockhart and I want to see the man punished for such mindless behaviour.

"My dear friend," Lockhart laughs lightly, completely ignoring the heated glare I send him. A few of the other Professors laugh at my expense. "The students must be prepared. Had I been an enemy I would hardly inform them of my plans!" He's right, of course, but I know for a fact it was not on purpose.

"You know, Severus," I flinch when Lockhart uses my name, "once I was saving this little innocent village from a powerful banshee, see my collected works, I had no idea what I was meeting," he crosses his legs and looks at me significantly, "the _poor_ village-people had no idea themselves and so the task befell me to investigate. It could have been anything," he made a gesture with his hands before continuing; "luckily it was _only_ a banshee. I've already met one of them before, wrote a book about it too..." he studies his nails with posed insignificance and then lets out a loud sigh.

"And that's not the only time I've entered a scene with an unknown enemy," he nods seriously at me, not really registering the disbelieving gazes the other professors are directing at him.

"Good for you..." I tell him slowly, hoping to close the discussion. The man nods seriously.

"You be glad you're in a safe environment as this, Severus," Lockhart ends with a dramatic serious attitude. "Out there it's..." Albus enters and Lockhart fall silent.

***

The Slytherin seeker, whose position Potter took over last year, has decided to give up his position to focus more on his studies. It didn't take much to convince him but inform his parents that his graduation, if their son's grades continue in the same line as last year, will be in much danger.

I give my guidance openly to the boy. Slytherins stick together, after all.

Draco has decided to try out for the position and Lucius, upon hearing it, is _graciously_ donating new brooms for the entire team. It's a little over the top, for my taste, but I know Lucius likes to make a statement. People can always turn on you when you use words on them, but with something more substantial, like an expensive broom, people have more difficulty turning away from the path laid out for them.

I give the Slytherins special permission to train, so that Draco can get in shape quickly. The boy, thankfully, is well on a broom, but I still worry about any humiliation he may encounter.

Once more I have a conversation with the Head Boy. The new Slytherins have fallen into the role naturally, which isn't much of a surprise, since they came from Slytherin families; nice to know, nevertheless.

With discomfort I ask about Potter. I have to, since Albus will, eventually, ask me about him. Flint merely shrugs his shoulder.

"There are... a few problems with the other students and Potter," he allows, uncomfortable. I frown, tiredly. "It's not big, but they bully him a little. He doesn't really respond to it, which makes it worse. But they're cooling down. The seventh years are farther from the _incident_ than those last years and each year we get further from it..." he trails off and I realise that the following years will be easier.

"He's not new anymore, either," Flint continues, "but there are a few words and pushes given out, but... it's getting calmer," he concludes and I nod. I probably should've told him to make sure it ends _now_, but I decide to let it play out on its own.

***

Potter is over his three detentions and has been gracious towards me so that he won't land in more. It's a good thing to see, I note, since it shows that he actually _did_ learn something from Lockhart. That or his aunt and uncle actually wrote to him to tell him to start behaving.

As the cold and flu season comes around I find myself busier than normal. It's a strong season, this season is, and I have to work constantly in order to get the potions done. There are many potions that need to be done.

Flint informs me that Potter has fallen down a staircase in an incident with another student. I realise what he's saying, but I simply haven't gotten the time to check up on the _boy_. I wonder briefly why Flint even told me, as this is something I'd have assumed he'd keep a secret.

However, at the following dinner I realise why he did tell me. Potter has a purple cheek and when Albus asks I tell him the boy tell from a staircase. He's a little worried, but lets it go. The boy seems to handle himself well, despite it, so obviously there's no problem.

Once more I see that Potter doesn't eat, and I assume he's still cooking or whatnot in the kitchen instead.

***

I manage to find some time for the new first-years, to make sure they've gotten well integrated into the house, and then I talk a little with the rest of the house as well. I haven't done this often, but since Potter has been sorted into the house I've found I've had to participate more often. Albus wants me to _know_ the students, know if they're capable of hurting _Potter_. Know thy enemies, indeed.

It bothers me, since I know the Slytherins wouldn't harm Potter; seriously, anyway. It's nothing more serious than what happens in the other houses, but, Albus informs me, Potter isn't just any student. This, naturally, leads to an uncomfortable situation with me claiming that Potter _is_ like everyone else and should be treated as such.

I know there's a prophecy, I've heard some of it, even, and so I think it's more important that the boy learns to fight for himself instead of us coddling him like a little baby. Albus agrees, warily, but tells me to be sure the boy is safe.

That is why I'm scanning the surface of the minds of the students. None of them has any ill intentions towards the boy, as such. The general feeling, I get, is that they wouldn't go out of their way for the boy. I tell Albus that they're not harming the boy; they simply have no interest in him. He's a little worried by that, but I sigh and tell him to stop worrying. So what if people aren't bowing and scraping for him, I rather think it's a healthy sign.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello :)**

I'm contemplating on how to differ the next year from the original course. Things need to be changed to be more believeable, so if you have any idea, let me know :)

Also, I'm done with this year, so hopefully the posts will be more regular. I'm strongly considering adding other people's POVs to Snapes, though his will be the most critical one, I imagine.

For now: please enjoy

**

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****Chapter 4 **

Minerva dotes on the boy. Of course, she does. She exclaims how alike Potter and his mother are in the field of transfiguration. Potter seems to be a natural. She's told him that, too. I just hope the child won't get cocky with all this praise. I know Felius has informed Potter, as well, of how good he's doing.

It seems to spring from the fact that all the Professors have noticed that Potter doesn't have many friends. Or any, to be more precise. As if that gives them the right to dote on him.

All of them telling Potter how _alike_ he is to his parents. That cannot be, good, I tell myself, but I cannot really stop it.

Halloween is coming around and people are starting to cheer up from the glum of homework. The Great Hall is being decoration is customary colours, black and orange, and I wonder if I should go by the kitchen and ask for something that doesn't include pumpkin. Albus realise my intentions and tries to talk me out of it.

"This is what Halloween is all about: traditions!" I know Albus loves traditions. In a world changing the only thing left is traditions, but seriously: pumpkin pancakes and pumpkin stew? That's just... not very delicious. What happened to mourn the dead?

I note that there are some, who seems to mourn the dead. Potter isn't by the Slytherin table, I note. Once more he's taken up to attend meals when there's less than 15 minutes left of it, but I don't bother telling him to come earlier. There's truly no point to it. Tonight he doesn't arrive at all, not even by the ending.

Anyway, Potter's family was murdered on Halloween, so he's probably celebrating them, or whatever it is you do.

Strange, if Potter's parents died on Halloween then the Dark Lord did too. That's 11 years, to this day, of freedom. Tomorrow it will be 11 years and 1 day. And so on. I almost smile and I realise, with a little surprise that all the other teachers are very comfortable tonight as well. They're all _aware_. Except Lockhart, naturally, who is blabbering about the potency this night have for killing something or other.

It's surprisingly a comfortable evening, tonight. No one is angry, all happy. That my happy mood is due to Potter, those 11 years back, is not something I dwell too much on. The child was just a baby, after all. Since I know some of the prophecy I also know that Potter never did anything _special_. It could've been anyone, actually. To be more precise: it could've been Longbottom.

I wonder about how it would've been had it been Longbottom. Would he be just as clumsy or would he be more secure? I look towards the boy in question; he's sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing at one of Finnegan's jokes along with Weasley. Despite coming from an ancient line he's very withdrawn and hunched; nothing like his parents. I cannot imagine what kind of person he would've been, had he been the Boy Who Lived. I imagine he'd have more respect, consequently have more self-esteem and therefore be less clumsy. And then Potter might've taken up the role as the clumsy and stupid one?

Well, no, if Longbottom had been the Boy Who Lived Potter's parents would've been alive and he'd be the same pompous prat he is now, probably a little worse, really. Unless they were subjected to the Cruciatus and left insane; In that case he'd be like he is now.

I wonder what Potter would've been like if he'd been sorted into Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. He's obviously fitter to be a Ravenclaw, with all his studying or whatever it is he does in the library. In Slytherin he's taught he's not above anyone and I have no doubt that had he been a Gryffindor he'd exceed his father in attitude.

Good thing he's in Slytherin, then, I decide. At least there he'll learn proper manners and his proper place.

I look towards the Slytherin table again; his seat is empty. I doubt he'll arrive at the end of the feast, since this isn't exactly an ordinary day and I don't mind that he isn't here. His appearance makes the Slytherins a little edgier, for some reason.

I just hope he isn't doing anything stupid, like making a sacred alter and trying to contact his dead parents through dark arts. _Ha-ha¸_ I think to myself. That would be fun to watch. Imagine Albus's face if Potter turned out all evil.

As the evening concludes the students begin to raise, all tired and ready for bed. I watch them leave, the prefects and Head Boys/girls ushering them off to their respective houses. We, the teachers, are left back, talking loosely when Penelope Clearwater hurries into the Great Hall, looking greatly distressed.

"Headmaster!" She calls, fear written plainly in her face. "You must come quickly! On the second floor!" The Headmaster is out of his seat immediately and I follow him, wondering who has gotten themselves in trouble.

"Be calm, miss Clearwater," The Headmaster asks, kindly. She shakes her head.

"Headmaster! Mr. Filch's cat is dead! On the wall, written in blood is..." She doesn't finish, but usher us to the scene. My stomach in turning over and I watch with dread as the students scatter to let us through.

_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware._

Nearby Mrs. Norris is hanging in a rope, unmoving. Filch's voice is the strongest, weeping and despairing over his dead cat.

"Did anyone see anything?" Minerva questions the students, but no one answer at first.

"Potter was here. He's a Slytherin, they reside in the dungeons," some student states and I swivel to find Potter, standing to the side of the scene. The whispers are starting, all wondering the same: what is Potter doing on the second floor, when the Slytherins are known to reside in the dungeons.

"I was in the library!" Potter states, panic evident in his eyes. He searches for someone to back him up, but no one says anything.

"The library is _that_ way, and you've passed one staircase leading down," Ron Weasley informs smartly.

"Accusations won't solve anything," Albus cuts in, but everyone has understood the point. If Potter was leaving the library he should've taken the first staircase down instead of continuing. There's no real valid reason for him to be there. I'm pretty sure the child didn't do this, it's a little out of his league, but I like the distrust the others have for him.

"Head Boys and girls, please lead your charges onwards," Albus asks, "Mr. Potter, come with us," the looks the other students send towards the boy are either confused or confident. I realise this is somewhat expected; he's a Slytherin, after all.

"My office is close, Headmaster," Lockhart informs and lead the way when Albus accepts. I'm appalled when I enter; there are pictures of Lockhart everywhere, smiling and waving frantically.

Lockhart gives his point of view right away, claiming that the cat died from some odd spell and that if he'd been there he'd been able to counter it.

I'm not entirely sure of what to make of it all; uncertain about the cat, so I block it out and watch Potter instead. He meets my gaze for a brief second and then looks away, clearly uncomfortable. I doubt he really did it, but I know he is hiding something.

"She's petrified, not dead" Albus states. "Mr. Potter, did you see anything odd coming from the library?" Albus questions when he'd done prodding the cat. His eyes turn on the boy, who evades the Headmaster's gaze by looking at the cat instead.

"No, sir," he seems hesitant, but then continues, "I only passed the first staircase because the stairs were taking so long!" A valid excuse, I grant him. The staircases could be bothersome and choosing not to wait for them has been known to happen, quite often, actually.

"I agree," I say, staring at Potter intensely. He's not meeting my gaze, so I cannot try to peak into his mind. "This is serious magic, Potter is only a second year," he looks up at me when noting my disliking tone.

"I'm not tall enough either," he says, startling everyone to silence. I stare at him, confused. "The writing was further up, I'd have to get a stool. If I'd gotten a stool, where was it? And why would I put it away and then come back?" Albus chuckles at the logic and I simply glare. He's far too observant, sometimes, for his own good. "Where did the blood come from?" His voice is almost muted and I think I'm the only one hearing it.

It is a good question, though. The cat isn't drained from blood, and yet the writing on the wall is clear. So where did the blood come from?

The conversation continues about Mrs. Norris. Pomona is raising Mandrakes and when they're older, or bigger, they'll make a nice antidote for the petrified cat. Filch is momentarily comforted, but then continues his rant of accusations. It's then I remember Potter, so does everyone else and we turn to him. He's calm and relaxed, staring at the floor. How odd that I could forget about him, but I kind of find it amusing. A little.

"I do not believe it is young Harry's fault; he was simply in the wrong place," Albus says and the boy looks up briefly. Their eyes meet briefly before Potter looks at the cat again and then down on the floor again. "Innocent until proven guilty," Albus states with a concluding tone. He nods at the boy and I watch as Potter leaves, quickly.

Argus is still trembling with anger and frustration when he's sent to bed and Albus, Minerva and I leave Lockhart in his office not soon after.

"Poor boy," Minerva exclaims, "and a Slytherin, no less," she looks towards me.

"Make sure he's unharmed through this period, Severus," Albus asks and I nod, numbly. "I have no doubt of the thoughts the students are having right now."

"They'll claim he's the heir and soon as someone realises what the chamber is and what it was meant for," she shivers and I agree to that. I wasn't around the first time when it was opened, but it's a general story, a well-known story, among purebloods. It won't be long till everyone knows.

"Do you think it's true?" I ask the Headmaster. He looks at me, briefly, and I can see he's troubled.

"I am uncertain," he replies, "last time people died, not petrified," he falls silent for a second. "I dearly hope it hasn't been opened," and with that he leaves us. I stand with Minerva for a few seconds, worried.

"There's going to be hell," she states and I agree, completely.

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**Please review**


	12. Chapter 12

**Someone mentioned the chapter names. Initially I began the years separate, and so they will have chapter 1-x throughout the year and begin over in the following year. As such there will be more than one "chapter one", but it will be spread through different years :)**

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**Chapter 5**

The students are running amok in the school, equally scared and excited by the prospect of the opening of the Chamber. Some idiot has started passing out amulets and now half the school is wearing all sort of strange objects they believe will save them.

I consider acting upon this and try to placate the students, but when I find out my colleagues aren't doing anything of the sort I decide not to. If _they_ don't deem it necessary then I bloody well won't either.

The Slytherins, Draco especially, seem to have taken the role as the fearless ones. They believe themselves above this old threat and I've heard Draco mock some of the other students with the infamous Mudblood word.

For that is what it is all about.

Mudbloods.

And the whole school knows about it. After one class of History, where Binns, flustered by the sudden attention the students were giving him, deemed it prudent to inform what the hell the Chamber of Secrets is all about.

Naturally, this makes everything worse. Now the muggleborn students knows about it and their fear is written so plainly on their faces that certain Slytherins finds it easy to taunt them. More times than I've bothered to count do I hear of weeping students.

Albus is not pleased either. The school-board is asking questions and the parents are sending him letters. It's a tight situation and I hope, for everyone's sake, that it's just some foolish prank. It's not hard to imagine that it might've been a Slytherin who's done it, but it's not something I'm willing to voice out loud.

***

Albus has demanded I _check up_ on my students. Meaning: he wants me to see if there is anyone who knows something. The other Heads have been instructed to do the same.

It's a few days later when there's telltale of a rumour. Draco seems unaffected by this ordeal and whispers say that he's the heir. I know it's ridiculous, but Draco isn't fending off the accusations, but take pride. I pull him aside, hoping for a word.

"I don't know who the _real_ heir is," Draco informs me pompously. The sudden attention has gotten to his head, I note, since he dare speak to me in such a manner. He seems to catch my mood and struggle a bit to find a different attitude. "I don't mind them believing it, though," he admits. I nod; I can see that.

"Draco, in such cases as this, for future reference, it is best to be in the background. Keep that in mind and you'll stay out of Azkaban," I tell him. The Chamber situation haven't progressed far enough for the Ministry to take action, but if Draco parades around, acting like he's the heir, when the situation or more serious, he can get in a lot of trouble. I consider adding this, but I don't want to give him too many details. It was the same thing his father did to keep himself from going to Azkaban.

He let others do the dirty work as much as possible and then proclaim innocence afterwards.

"Some _rumours_ have it that _Potter_ is the heir!" Draco informs me spitefully. I frown at him; I had not wanted attention drawn to Potter. It does make me wonder what the boy is doing and where he's hiding.

"Doubtfully," I simply answer and Draco let's his shoulders fall a little, relaxed. "Where is he anyway?" It occurs to me that I haven't _noticed_ Potter since the incident. Draco shrugs and mentions the library as a possible place. It would not be wholly out of place.

***

First Quidditch game of the year; Draco is playing admirably and we win, though it was very close. I'm pleased that Flint seems level-headed enough to point out how close they were at losing to Draco. Draco, flushing in shame, promises to spend more time practising.

"Draco, when you're raised with one belief it's difficult to get rid of it," I tell him, to cheer him up. Despite it being directed at Quidditch I can't help but think that it's also concerns other aspects of life as well.

"What do you mean, Sir?" Draco question sullenly, displeased for having been reprimanded when they _won_ the game. "We won the game, isn't that the most important thing?"

"Yes and no," I tell him, using my best teacher voice so that he understands better. He seems to take it better with authorities. "When you believe something strong enough your eyes gets clouded. You must be open to new possibilities and ready to adapt. You're a fair flyer, but if you do a few things differently you may last longer and have a better overview," he frowns at me, but I see that he gets it. I tell him to speak with the former Seeker, who, without doubt, will have some valuable tips for him. If all else fails he should sneak out and watch the other teams train.

***

Another attack has happened. Colin Creevey, a first year, has been attacked. I meet Albus in the Infirmary.

"Another attack," Albus states gravely. I peek behind him and note that the victim is petrified, not dead. The boy's camera shielded him from whatever power the secret beast has. Albus sees it and nods. "Probably saved his life," we move to stand by the boy's side.

"You think he managed a photo of his attacker?" Minerva's voice is filled with fright. I glance towards her and note her fidgeting. Albus reaches for the camera, but the film is utterly destroyed. "Albus, a human was attacked this time!" Minerva worries, "the Board will not accept this," she pleads.

"They will not," Albus agrees. I have a sinking feeling all of the sudden; the school might close. If it doesn't changes will definitely be made; I glance at Albus and suddenly realise who might be behind this.

In the safety of Albus's office I voice my concerns.

"Draco seems to _know_ something, but not... _know_," I try to explain. "Lucius will not stand by and watch you take care of this yourself," I inform, venting my frustrations with a snarl. "He will use this opportunity to get rid of you. Most likely he made this happen _somehow_!"

"Yes, Severus, I believe you are correct," Albus agrees. I want to stomp my feet by his lack of response, but I manage to hold myself back. "We must be careful," he mutters, mainly to himself. Then, almost with difficulty, Albus gets out of his trance and turn to Minerva and me. "We must watch the students better. I worry someone might be used in this grand scheme." I nod reluctantly and worry about Draco.

It occurs to me that Lucius, like any enraged and worried parent, more so since he's on the Governors Board and therefore actually knows what goes on at Hogwarts, should've bombarded me with... _something_ in regards to these attacks. Well, since he doesn't know about Creevey he should at least have responded to the opening of the Chamber. Since he hasn't I assume he's behind it somehow.

***

The word of Creevey has reached the ears of the students, as I knew it would. The sale of talisman and whatnot is strengthened and I watch how the Weasley twins, almost with Slytherin minds, make profit from selling odd-sorts of candy, no doubt made by them.

Had a Slytherin done that they'd be called evil, but with Gryffindors it's just a _prank_. That's humanity for you.

Bastards.

***

It's on my way back from the dungeons that I run into Potter again. It briefly occurs to me that I haven't seen him in a while. No, that's not true. I have seen him, I just haven't noticed him. He's flushed with anger when he passes me from the hallway where I once saw him speak with a house-elf. There are only circular hallways in that direction and a few empty rooms, nothing of importance.

"Where have you been, Mr Potter?" I question him. Emotions flicker through his eyes before they settle on neutral and his face falls into a tight expression. "I hope you haven't bothered any elves again," I almost want to put my finger under his chin and force him to look up at me when he looks down onto the floor.

"I was just walking, without thinking," he explains.

"Hardly," I counter and note how his fist clenches and unclenches. I frown at him, wondering what he's been doing and what has agitated him. Normally I wouldn't care too much, but Potter isn't easy to bait.

"Is it against the rules to explore the castle?" He suddenly questions, voice tense and strained. His eyes meet mine and I remember Lily. I remember Petunia, I remember the playground. Things that I thought forgotten are dredged to the surface as I look into his eyes. Mesmerising.

I look away, angry now; insufferable boy. I dock a few points, not bothering with a detention since I haven't the mind to check up on who's available and when. When I look up the boy is gone. I tell myself good riddance and hope I won't run into him again.

I don't lose control over my mind so easily, but then again, I haven't been near Potter for a while and his parents and I had an _interesting_ past. Bothersome little child; the last thing I want to do is think about Lily.

***

Something is missing from my personal stock of ingredients. Someone has broken into my stock, I realise with anger; possibly a student. The ingredients taken seem to be adding to a Poly Juice Potion.

That's a higher level potion, but I don't know any older students willing to risk stealing from me.

My first idea is that it's Potter. I haven't entirely discarded the idea, but I have to admit to myself that I have no idea what he would use it for.

As it is, I have little idea what others would use it for. My guess is the obvious one: to impersonate someone to get information of some sort.

It's a good guess, a Slytherin's guess, but I doubt any of the students capable enough to actually be so smart as to find out things that way, so the second one is that someone is using it for _personal_ entertainment.

It isn't unheard of, after all.

I mention it to Albus, but he seems torn between amusement and worry. We both incline towards amusement, but I still find it insufferable that someone has stolen from me.

***

"You know, I think it would be a marvellous idea if we made a duelling club," Lockhart says at a staff meeting. "Just think, in all this chaos the children will want to _know_ how to protect their own hides! And since I'm here and, dare I say, quite capable, I think we should!"

I don't bother pointing out that he overheard the idea from Felius, who, by right, is looking a little pissed. Minerva whispers something to him and he relaxes with a grin. I frown, wondering at what it was, but quickly realises what it might be. If Lockhart is foolish enough to take up a duelling club surely he'll get his end, I'd be happy to oblige him in reaching it.

"I think you're quite right and I shall be happy to assist," I inform, calmly. Lockhart seems a little fidgety at first, but covers it up by blinding me with a smile. Felius, afterwards, begs me to do it properly and, in the spirit of united hatred towards Lockhart, I promise him with a wide and somewhat evil grin that I will.

***

The Christmas holiday is near enough for me to begin my annual name collecting. My list is usually non-existing or very short. This year, however, I know at least one Slytherin will be certain to remain behind. I'm not entirely sure why, but _something_ tells me that Potter isn't going home. Despite the, somewhat, valid excuse last year something in the back of my mind reminds me that Potter didn't seem inclined to the idea of spending Christmas with his family.

I'm not really interesting in finding out the _whys_, he's using up enough space in my mind as it is, and it's quite possibly just because he wants to play the misunderstood teenager and want them to send him extra presents or something equally ridiculous as that.

Nevertheless, when I see him sign his name on the chart I dutifully step over to him and stare at him till he notices me. No need to make him comfortable.

He turns, registering my intense gaze, and meet my gaze for a seconds before ruffling his hair. I flex my jaw by the action, reminded by James and how he did it.

"Potter, stop messing with your hair. It's bad enough as it is without you messing it up further," I snarl at him and he frowns for a second. I swear I see the briefest of amusement flicker across his lips, as if this is funny to him. I wish I could read his mind, but his actions seconds before has shaded his gaze with fringes.

Bothersome little boy, I tell myself.

"I apologise, sir," Potter says politely. Always polite, I recall with a sigh; flawless manners; now they are, anyways. I won't let him know I think that lest he'll let it get to his head; arrogance.

"I see you once more are planning at staying at Hogwarts through Christmas. No excuses this year?" It was meant as a jab, mockery, but something in his eyes changes, surprise? I think I may have unintentionally hit the truth. What last year an excuse? I continue; a weak hope to unravel his secrets. "Thinking staying will grant you more gifts from your family?" I smile thinly, secure in my belief that this is the reason. Whatever I hoped to unravel slips away; he doesn't react as I expected he would and his reaction is gone too quickly for me to properly analyse it.

A second pass.

He frowns briefly and then with a sweep of his hand removes the fringes in front of his eyes. His shockingly green eyes stare at me intently, a question shimmering in the surface of them, begging me to read them.

Something holds me back.

In the split of a second _discomfort _rise in me; I am uncertain from where it arose, but it's fighting against me, holding me back from reading his mind.

I snap out of it before the second has passed and I mentally wave it off. It's the season and the holly that's getting to me, no doubt; tired, too. I don't want to read his mind; I don't want to think of Potter more than I already do; that's what I tell myself.

"Erm..." Potter replies, snapping me out of my mental haze. I stare at him with dazed eyes having almost forgotten the conversation. I shake my head at him disgusted and wave him off. Something about him is making me uncomfortable, I briefly muse in a moment of clarity.

It must've been the shock of seeing Lily's eyes. I always loved those eyes and seeing her eyes on him threw me off. Yes, that's it.

***

I manage to forget Potter for a little while and spend some time talking with Draco about his Christmas. It's a nice change, I muse. A good excuse, too. His voice, eager and young, distracts me from Potter and strengthens my bond with Draco.

Draco is excited about going home, naturally. He's proud of his Quidditch accomplishments, and so is his mother, who has promised his a gift in honour of his first match. Sometimes Draco is such a _child_, I muse. It's odd to see those moments, because I momentarily forget the chaos around me.

Our conversation land on the upcoming Duelling Club. Draco is, of course, excited to show off his skills, but I kindly remind him that it's not a place to flaunt the curses he knows, but rather a place where he'll learn to understand the _art_ and how to duel properly.

Well, perhaps not. I doubt Lockhart will manage to teach them anything, but it's how it _should_ be like, a duelling club.

***

Lockhart is ecstatic on the day of the duelling club. He's giving me tips and tells me about his quests around the world. It's... intolerable... how I haven't managed to shake him off me. With luck I will manage to make _sure_ he won't bother me again after the Duelling Club.

I arrive just after the last few students have and I note the Lockhart is already on the stage looking a bit more pompous than usual. The man claims to have duelled so many people and I wonder if he already dressed up for those occasions. Personally I find too much clothes to be bothersome under a fight, as it tends to get in the way. I remove my outer cloak and Lockhart follows my move and throws his cloak to the girls, who squeal in _delight_.

I smile mentally at the thought of their expressions if I did the same.

Clapping his hands for silence Lockhart then proceeded to call for order, "Hello! Can everyone see me? Can everyone hear me?" He grinned at me briefly with his radiating smile and I tried my very best not to sneer at him. Something, from way back, reminded me that you must behave cordially towards your colleagues in front of others; especially in front of students. Otherwise all respect is lost. I'm not entirely sure Lockhart has any respect to begin with, but it's a principle.

"Today I plan to show you how to begin a proper duel," Lockhart clapped excited again. "Professor Snape has been so kind to assist me in this. He told me he knows a bit about duelling himself," Lockhart smiled kindly at me and I almost considered telling him from _where_ I was taught how to duel. Or perhaps by _who_.

"As you can see we begin taking proper stances," Lockhart came to stand in front of me some metres away. "Our wands are held correctly," he showed it briefly. "When we've counted to three we will begin our duel." Oh this was almost too fun, I thought to myself.

The countdown began and when we reached three I called out a disarming spell before Lockhart could even think of it. I growled to myself at as he was flung back. There are ways to ensure the impacts won't hurt you too much and one of them are by standing with legs spread out properly to give you a more level ground. The way Lockhart stood made him look like someone who's never duelled before.

"E-excellent spell, Professor Snape," Lockhart managed to get himself up to the stage again, staggering slightly. "It was obvious what you were planning to cast, but I thought for show I'd let you do it," he explained. My anger bubbled and I forgot all about proper treatment of colleagues in front of students. Right now I just wanted to see that man dead. How dare he suggest...

Luckily for all parties Lockhart seemed to realise how far over my line he had stepped and backed off. He gave me a nervous grin, but I stared him down in response.

The students were asked to pair up and I didn't even bother warning Lockhart of the possible pandemonium this would cause. With luck Lockhart will quit due to stress soon enough. Draco landed with Neville Longbottom from Gryffindor, who looks a bit anxious.

Potter... My eyes landed on Potter. I hadn't noticed him here tonight till now. I was sure I'd have seen him arrive. He's standing in the back, watching the scene unfold as students began cursing each other after having been paired up by Lockhart.

My attention fall on Lockhart again when the man starts stuttering nervously and trying to break the couples apart.

"Perhaps it would be wise to show them how to defend themselves first," I mention calmly and Lockhart nods. He looks at me and for a moment I know he's considering asking me to join him on the stage. I smirk to myself when the wheels visibly turn in his head and he searches the crowd for a pair.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Longbottom," Lockhart calls and point at the stage.

"I think it would be wise to use someone _else_ than Longbottom," I call aloud, "his anxiety attacks aren't lessened in front of a crowd." Lockhart usher Longbottom down from the stage and his eyes land on Potter. Briefly I am filled with anticipation. This will definitely be interesting. Draco catches my eyes and he smirk at me. I give him a mock glare and he sniggers.

"Now, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy please take up your positions," Lockhart tells and both students take their positions. I whisper a curse for Draco to use while Lockhart shows Potter how to deflect an attack. It's not much, but it's _Slytherin_.

Upon three nothing happens. Potter's wand is ready, so is Draco's, but neither curse each other. Draco, I know, is waiting for an opening and I assume Potter is doing the same. Or is he? Somehow it appears he's assessing the situation, for some reason. His eyes, brilliant green, flicker to mine for a moment.

Draco, not bothered to wait for long, throws Serpensortia and the familiar Slytherin crest, now a live Snake, lands in front of Potter, who briefly freezes in surprise. I smile to myself, pleased for having stunned Potter. He had not expected this.

"I'm sure Mr. Malfoy didn't mean to frighten you," I speak loud enough for the entire hall to hear. The Slytherins laugh mockingly.

"Let me," Lockhart says and points his wand at the snake. The curse he uses isn't the right one and makes the snake hiss angrily and raise its head from the ground in a ready stance. I watch it hiss at a student near the stage and take out my wand to remove it.

Hissing.

My blood freezes as the all too familiar hissing resound in the hall. The snake stops its possible attack and turns to Potter and slither to his feet where Potter bends and _pats_ it while hissing to it. Shock, utter shock, blackens my mind and I barely register Potter utter a spell and the snake disappear in a puff of smoke.

The hall is silent and Potter stands, looking around with a frown. His eyes land on the unfortunate student who the snake had turned on.

"What are you playing at?" The voice is shaky and I barely register the blur of the boy's cape as he flees the hall. I stare at Potter, shell-shocked still. He backs off, uncertain suddenly, and leaves the hall.

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	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 6**

_Hermione Granger, Lisa Turpin_

I was skimming through the books quickly, though carefully mindful of hints that could lead me towards the information I was seeking.

"This is useless," Lisa's voice was quiet and somewhat disinterested.

"There's got to be _something_," I insisted, but I was inclined to believe her. We'd perused half the library with no luck. "It's just odd," I explained, falling silent. Lisa nodded absentmindedly beside me.

"Potter is hardly evil," she trailed off. I nodded in agreement. Potter wasn't evil. My encounters with him were brief, but it had made the right impact. He was like the hero from the books. Mind you, I'm not one to hero-worship, but Potter… Harry seems reasonable, clever, and attentive. And not to mention: surprised when speaking the language of the snakes. I'm pretty sure he must've known he could do it, I cannot see how he couldn't, but it's also likely that he didn't know that it was bad and frowned upon.

"Justin seems to take things better now, though," Lisa continued. We'd both been there, visiting him in the hospital. Ernie McMillan was a friend of ours, loosely, but it was enough to allow us entrance. Lisa and I were both aware that we needed information on this topic before deciding on anything particular.

Justin had a first seemed frightened, shocked, but had easily been convinced that Harry had saved him, since he had, obviously, called the snake away. I hated the idea of Justin thinking badly of Harry, because it wasn't _right_.

"I imagine you're still planning on helping him gain his fanbase back?" Lisa questioned, her tone was hard. I nodded by her serious tone. She didn't like it, didn't like to get too involved, but I couldn't help myself. I found it stupid that people would just abandon their _saviour_ so easily.

"I think we can help you," a voice interrupted us and I looked up Neville and Ron from Gryffindor. Our involvement with each other had been sparse in the past, but we had never had any problems.

***

_Severus_

"You are too worried," Albus's voice tries to soothe my nerves, but it's not working. "As I said: Harry has most likely gotten it from when Voldemort cursed him," his voice takes on a darker tone and the old man falls into his chair.

"If Potter received this gift what else did he receive?" Minerva questions, worriedly. I can see her point, but I don't have the mentality to delve into it right now as I am still too shocked by the events earlier.

"Yes, Minerva," Albus sighs tiredly, "Severus, please," the man asks and I manage to heave myself up from my musings.

"I just-" I fall silent again. I shiver as I recall the sheer terror I felt the moment I heard the hissing.

"Everyone will think _he's_ the heir now," Minerva says quietly. I shiver at that possibility.

"I doubt young Harry is behind the attacks," Albus assures us both sternly. I look up at him and wonder if he's reassuring himself as well. I don't say it aloud, but to myself I know that it isn't Potter. He simply hasn't got any _reason_ to hurt anyone at Hogwarts; and Potter is the kind of person who'll want a reason for doing anything drastic. The boy keeps to himself too much to bother with other people.

"But it's a very odd thing to transfer," Minerva voices, sceptically. "Odd to transfer that particular gift, isn't it?" The three of them fall silent once more.

"Should we be worried?" I question carefully, staring at Albus.

"No, I do not think so. The Prophecy is with us, with Harry," it's the first time the prophecy has been mentioned in many years. In fact, the last time was when the Dark Lord fell. Albus leans back in his seat, calmed by that thought. I feel at ease as well; despite everything that will happen in the future the prophecy will at least secure us Potter.

"Due to that _thing_ Potter will gain the strength he'll need?" Minerva asks, uncertain.

"Fate works in mysterious ways," Albus chuckles, "but this will certainly help equalise them further, which is good," Albus ends. I am calm; a calm ocean now. "But I believe it will be wise to talk to the boy; I've no doubt he's as shocked by this as the rest of the school." I nod, absentminded.

"Will you tell him of the prophecy, too?" I question, uncertain.

"Oh no, Albus! He's a little boy!" Minerva begs and Albus agrees with her. I agree too; there'd be no reason to tell him now since it would only make him afraid. I suppress the knowledge, not wanting to bother with it. Albus has told it will be he who will tell the boy of it, and he's the only one of us who knows the full extent of it anyway. I leave it to him.

"Will you speak to him about this _ability_?" I question Albus, not wanting to take up that job myself. What can I tell him anyway?

"Yes, I will. If you will be so kind to send him to me when you see him," Albus asks and I nod and stand to leave. With a quick nod towards Minerva I leave to find Potter, mulling everything over.

I go the library, assuming that Potter is hiding there rather than Slytherin house. My assumption bears fruit and Potter sits in the back by his _usual _table, hiding behind his books. I study him for a few seconds before realising that he's not gazing in the books.

"Mr Potter," he jumps when I announce myself and he visibly collects himself. "The Headmaster wishes to see you," he nods and gets up from the table. For a moment we stand, looking at each other, waiting. I find myself uncomfortable being near him, knowing there's now more than a scar linking him to the Dark Lord.

"I- I'm not the heir," he claims fiercely, surprising me with his strong voice. I am so used to his voice being low and boyish.

"I am aware of that," I inform and gesture for him to get a move on. He's out of the library before I turn towards the exit myself and I give a quick nod to Madam Pince before going to my office. Draco is by my office when I get there, waiting for me and looking anxious. I sigh to myself before greeting him and then letting us both inside.

"Severus, is it true?" Draco immediately question and I note that he looks worried and a little scared. "Is Potter the heir?"

"Draco," I tell him, forcing myself to calm down. "The Headmaster believes that Potter received the ability to speak with snakes through magic when the Dark Lord cursed him," I inform him, squashing down all uncomfortable feelings inside of me. I soothe the boy's nerves and he visibly calms. We speak a little more about it all and I manage to squash all ideas of Potter being the heir and I know Draco will tell the other Slytherins what I've told him.

When he's left I fall into my chair heavily, tired from the emotional turmoil I've been through today.

***

The last few days up till the vacation are the worst, despite the Professors doing their best to discourage the rumours about Potter. The Gryffindors are the worst, openly calling war on the Slytherins and blaming them for the heir-business, making Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw believe it too.

The Slytherins doesn't entirely mind and only deny it when directly confronted with the questions. Potter is being treated worst, called various things by all houses, including Slytherin. However, it's not to his face since Potter seems to have _vanished_ and is only seen in class. As soon as class is over the boy disappears from view and those who tries to seek him out never have any luck. Or so Draco informs me.

Albus is, as always, worried about Potter and urges me to do _something_. I've got no idea what I can do that will actually work, since asking the Slytherins to stick up for Potter won't happen. Their interest towards Potter isn't entirely positive, not that that is any news.

***

A few days before the vacation another attack happens; Justin Fitch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Albus is shocked that a ghost has been attacked and for the life of him cannot find out how it has happened. There are very few animals that have the ability to petrify, we've been through them all, but all are unlikely. Either they're too small to be able to petrify a human being, and a ghost for that matter, or they are unlikely to reside in Hogwarts. The likely thing would be a snake, but we cannot find any snakes with such ability nor find anyone who may be able to control it. Albus doubts it's Potter and he's the only one currently a parselmouth.

Lucius has contacted me to hear more about the attacks, now worried. It makes me anxious that whatever Lucius thought he was playing at has gotten out of control. While only muggleborns have been targeted a ghost makes a huge difference. The sheer power the heir must possess in order to petrify a ghost is scaring Lucius.

Despite it all he covers it up by blaming Dumbledore and calling him incompetent. I am uncertain of what to make of it all and let myself play it out, though informing Dumbledore of Lucius's floo-call. There's nothing we can do of yet anyway except to keep a close eye.

I wonder if I should ask Draco to find out more, perhaps from Lucius, and scare him by informing him that if the attacks aren't stopped they might have to close to school. It would be smart to do, Albus agrees, and I find myself looking for Draco as he says goodbye to his fellow Slytherins. Draco is surprisingly staying at Hogwarts over the holiday.

"Draco, a word if you please," I ask him when he returns from having waves off his friends. He follows me to a deserted classroom nearby. "I am loathing asking this of you," I inform him, "but if you know anything about these attacks will you promise to tell me?" He looks at me surprised at my uncharacteristic pleading, "the school might close if this continues," I explain and his face pales at the implication.

"I do not know anything, but if I find out about anything I'll let you know," he promises and I then dismiss him.

***

The vacation begins and this year there are less students staying than usual. But it's not a surprise considering the horrors unleashed at the school lately. What do surprise me are three students who I would not have assumed to stay. Well, two rather. Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom, both from Gryffindor, are staying at Hogwarts through the vacation. Usually both go home, or rather, since you can hardly call anything usual by second year only, both have families that takes pride the family ties.

Another is the muggle-born Hermione Granger from Ravenclaw, who, for some reason, have gotten to know the two Gryffindors very well. It hadn't occurred to me before now, but when I think back I remember seeing them together often.

Of course then there are a few of the usual students staying over and a few more Slytherins. This year Grabbe and Goyle are staying with Draco and Potter is... somewhere in the castle as well.

I'm not entirely sure how Albus managed to find Potter, but he did and with his usual twinkle cajoled the boy to join the meals in the Great Hall. But then again, I know that, despite his easy-going nature and twinkling eyes, saying no to the Headmaster can quickly become uncomfortable, even for Potter.

It is dinner and most students left earlier this morning. Potter has come out of his hiding and is sitting by Hagrid somewhere further down. Draco is nearby me along with Grabbe and Goyle. I notice the two Gryffindors and Granger stare down at the Slytherins, trying, and failing, to be inconspicuous.

"Ahh, such dramas," Albus whisper to me and I roll my eyes. Whatever's going on isn't the typical drama, no matter what he believes. But then again, with all that's been going on it's likely they believe that Potter is the heir and are wary of him. But then why not go home?

To my private mind I muse that Weasley might not be able to afford going home, but I quickly dismiss the thought since his brothers and sister have gone.

***

"Well, Severus," Albus laughs at me when I encounter him near the entrance hall on Christmas day. He waves for me to follow him and I do. "I believe I've found the culprits of your stolen ingredients," he chuckles once more and I frown. "Did you get some nice presents this morning?" He smirks at me and I glare at him. His idea of a present is a little off.

"Thievery is hardly a joke, Headmaster," I tell him and ignore his questions regarding to my presents.

"I do believe you will find this funny," through a few secret passages we quickly find ourselves at the Infirmary. Madam Pompfrey is bustling about, busy with potions. At the end a bed is shielded from the public. Albus moves towards it, acting like a curious little child. I almost snort in amusement. Albus loves when the students mess up in odd ways.

And this certainly takes the prize. I stare at the furry thing in the bed, shocked. Whoever stole ingredients for a Poly-juice potion severely mucked it up and added animal hairs to it instead of human; from the looks of it a cat.

Albus is chuckling quietly to himself and I snort in amusement. The thing makes a wailing noise in its sleep and Madam Pompfrey rushes to its side.

"You two!" She curses under her breath and Albus and I move to the side.

"Ahh Severus," Albus chuckles once more, "this is indeed a good punishment for the culprit, no?" He giggles strangely and I roll my eyes at him. Some students just shouldn't be allowed to stay at Hogwarts.

"Were the red fur an indication of Gryffindor or merely accidental?" I question when Minerva joins us. She glares me at me but Albus merely chuckles again.

"Accident, I believe. But it _is_ a Gryffindor," Albus informs.

"You know, Minerva, this says a lot of the Gryffindors'... _preferences_," I note, faking an absentminded voice. "I wonder if that's why you're a cat." Albus burst in hysterics and I barely dodge a hex from Minerva.

"Who is it under that fur?" Minerva managed to ask eventually.

"Neville Longbottom," Albus chuckles. "I'm not entirely sure of the story, but I believe that Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley may have been included somehow, considering how close those three have become."

***

The rest of the holiday proceeds without incident and soon the students return with vigour. The board of governors is pressing Albus about the attacks, but there haven't been any, luckily, and with the Mandrakes maturing speedily those petrified will soon be revived and able to tell us who did it. I find myself caught up with work and students as the entire school starts preparing for the exams. On most part it requires for the medical wing to be stocked with calming draughts and a few other things.

As January ends and no attacks have happened Lockhart begins to claim that he's the one scaring off the monster. Just for that I _almost_ wish for an attack to happen, almost.

Albus becomes relaxed as we enter February as the board of governors back off and I almost see him de-age by it.

In the first weekend I'm appointed chaperone for another Hogsmeade weekend. This weekend is worse since the students are readying themselves for Valentine's Day. I heard Lockhart tell that he was planning something and I am a little worried in that regard. Whatever he's planning it's bound to be pink and glittery and in enormous amounts.

***

It _is_ pink. It _is_ glittery and there _are_ enormous amounts of it. When I woke up this morning I burned my way through pink and glittery hearts in order to get to breakfast. That my coffee was spoiled by glitter drifting from the ceiling did _not_ improve my mood. My vicious rant towards Lockhart didn't even perk up my mood as his response was a great smile and a "cheer up, good fellow," before he danced off, pointing his wand at small dwarves and asking them to move around the castle and spread _joy_.

By the time lunch came around I had made several first years cry and hexed two _cupids_. I was _not_ amused.

I stalked my way to the Great Hall, where, hopefully, I would convince Albus to remove the dwarves and lose the pink hearts falling from the sky. That would be _reasonable_. If he declined I'd stuff him with said hearts and dwarves!

_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,_

_His hair is as dark as a blackboard._

_I wish he was mine, he's really divine,_

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord_

There was muffled laughter when I reached the entrance hall and Draco made a comment about the youngest Weasley being in love with Potter. I am just in time to see her run off and the dwarf that sang move onwards. Potter is flushing a pink shade, looking into the ground.

"Ahh… eager fans, Potter?" I question as I pass. He looks up at me, angry, and then stomps off. I almost laugh at him, but manage to refrain myself. Just so. I can hear Draco and his friends laugh loudly before I enter the Great Hall. Whatever good mood I managed to get from Potter's humiliation disappears when I see the food. It's hearts-shaped; heart-shaped pudding, heart-shaped potatoes, heart-shaped everything.

My mood is appeased when I see that I am not the only ones glaring daggers at Lockhart, both students and professors are staring at Lockhart with mixed horror and hatred.

Except Albus, of course, who is _delighted_ by the shapes.

***

I managed to survive through Valentine's Day, but it had been a close call. Lucius had floo'ed earlier to chat about things and he'd laughed loudly on my expense when I told him about Lockhart.

As the days passed time fortunately managed to smooth over the events of Valentine. Many boys seemed to visibly relax by that.

My time was spent, outside of class, trying to convince Albus what an utter fool Lockhart is and talking to Lucius or Draco. I hadn't spoken to Lucius in a while in the past, it used to be sporadic, but after Draco had started attending Hogwarts we seemed to have picked up the contact to a steadier schedule.

The Slytherin in me reminded me how good that was; someone like Lucius is good to have as a friend.

Draco was also taking up on some of my time. I had begun entertaining the thought of mentoring him outside of class. I want Draco to be good at potions, for one thing, since he seems to grasp the subtleties of the art; I've also found doing it would make me interact more often with him as well. After the Dark Lord last year I am convinced it cannot be long till he returns. He seemed to have gotten his will back and if he intends to come back then it won't be long before it happens.

"Luckily no attack has been made for a while," Felius spoke as I entered the teacher's lounge. I picked up the conversation right away.

"But unless we find the monster, the heir, we won't be safe," Minerva pointed out. "Perhaps in 50 years we'll be attacked again," she looked uncomfortable by the thought, everyone did, but Albus entered shortly after and that particular conversation died down.

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Reviewing makes me want to write :) so... yes


	14. Chapter 14

**Someone mentioned that it shouldn't have been Ginny who wrote a poem, but perhaps someone else, more likely, but Ginny IS the most likely person, because she doesn't know him. The Slytherins wouldn't befriend him in any way because it's too uncertain, due to whom he is. Perhaps later, but right now it's all very new. Ginny is the tiny Gryffindor who only sees her hero, sure that he's probably sent to Slytherin to save them or something silly as that.**

**I'd love if you logged in before reviewing, because it makes it easier to answer you if you have any questions. Things will not be entirely the same next year, already forming a plan to make it much different, but trust that Harry will somehow be pressed into the situations somehow, though he will NOT like it. **

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**Chapter 7**

_Lisa Turpin_

No new attacks occurred and people seem relax and be more at ease. I'm not entirely at ease, because we obviously haven't found the culprit. And I'm not entirely one to go looking for trouble. See what happened to Hermione when _she_ tried to help. She played with the Gryffindors and now she's a cat. I couldn't help but laugh when I saw her. We're good enough friends to allow me entrance to the hospital wing. It was truly a funny sight. I think she may have learned her lesson and won't be fooling around with mindless Gryffindors again.

***

_Hermione Granger_

The library was quiet as everyone was getting ready for the Quidditch match. I'm not going, because obviously there are something more important things than Quidditch, but it seems I'm the only one who sees it that way.

I asked Ron and Neville if they wanted to help, but they didn't, they wanted to see the match. I knew Lisa didn't want to help me and I admit that I need a little break from her. She keep making me feel stupid for trusting the Gryffindors and yes, it was stupid, but it was a lesson well learned and now I will manage to apply my brains more effectively when they come up with other silly schemes.

It's nice to have friends, sort of friends, so I pushed whatever grudge I have to the back of my mind and perused the library for information.

What do I know? I know that it's an animal that can petrify, but… what else? Is it invisible? How did Salazar Slytherin communicate with it?

_Parseltongue_

The answer hit me immediately and my thoughts flashed to Harry Potter. He knows the language of the snakes, but it's impossible for it to be him… isn't it? Yes, it is! I know it is; Harry Potter saved the wizarding world, after all. He's the Boy Who Lived!

But then again, he's in Slytherin, he might've been corrupted, probably by Malfoy.

I pushed the thoughts away and tried to see if there were any snakes that could petrify. I find nothing.

Or do I? A footnote read that the Basilisk can petrify those who don't look at it directly, otherwise it is instant death. My heart is beating wildly in my chest, could this be it? Could it be so obvious?

I skimmed the text, positive that this was indeed the monster and ignoring all thoughts of a corrupted Harry Potter.

I had to go get the professors!

The silence around me was suppressing me suddenly and I jumped when I heard a noise.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Hermione," Penelope Clearwater, a prefect, informed me kindly.

"I figured out what's behind the attacks!" I rushed to inform her and she looked at me frightened. "Here," I conjured up a mirror from my pencil, a funny spell I've learned from watching vanity take over Ravenclaws; always know how to turn things into mirrors and such.

"What is it?" Her voice was uncertain, scared. "I'm meeting Percy soon, we should find him and get the professors," she informed me. I nodded in agreement and we peered in the mirror as it reflected the corner. There's nothing there and we rushed around it and proceeded to do the same with the next corner.

***

_Severus Snape_

I've just entered the stands when Percy Weasley rushes to us. He looks exhausted, his red face matching his hair.

"Professor Dumbledore!" He calls urgently. "Penelope Clearwater and Hermione Granger have been attacked! I found them in the hallway!" There's a collective gasp and it feels as if the universe halts for just a seconds before it continues its rotation. We all stare at Weasley, but I am quick to snap out of it, so is Albus, and we follow Weasley while Minerva calls for the attention of the students.

"What happened?" Albus questions when we reach the castle.

"I don't know, Sir. I was supposed to meet with Penelope, she was in the library, I thought she'd forgotten and then I went to find her. That's when I found this!" We rounded and corner and came to a halt.

They were petrified. The youngest, Hermione Granger, was holding a mirror in her hands.

"Mr. Weasley, you're excused," I snapped at the boy and he fled quickly.

"Petrified," Albus muttered to himself, "I wonder at this mirror," his hand found Miss Granger's and he pried the mirror from her petrified hands.

"Girls?" I muttered, half-heartedly. I bowed down to see more clearly. "We should get them to Madam Pompfrey;" I informed and Albus muttered, still pondering the mirror.

We floated the girls to Madam Pompfrey who quickly made room for them.

"Albus?" A voice interrupts us and both of us turn to see Minerva. She looks worried, scared. I agree with her sentiments. I _am_ worried about the meaning of this.

"I will inform the parents;" Albus informs us and takes his leave.

"I am worried, Severus," Minerva tells me, glancing at the two girls. "The board will not accepts this, Lucius is pressuring them," she looks at me for confirmation, but what can I say? Lucius is worried as well, but he'd never miss a chance to get Albus thrown out of the school.

I leave not long after that, just in time to see Draco leave the owlery. I assume he's sent a note to his father. Despite how clever Draco is he has moments of absolute stupidity. But no matter, Lucius would find out, whether or not Draco told him. We'd only be saved a couple of hours.

***

Lucius has arrived with the minister. Albus does not like this and to my surprise it turns out they've come to take in Hagrid. I've no idea why, but as the events unfold I realize that Hagrid did something silly in his youth. Despite it, I truly doubt Hagrid had anything to do with this, and I voice my opinion to Lucius when I'm sure no one can hear it.

"A chance to get that oaf out should not be wasted," he merely replies. Lucius's dislike towards certain people has made him blind, I realise, to the real threat.

Hagrid is not the only one removed from Hogwarts this evening, I later realise. Albus has been sacked and Minerva has gone to me to fret.

"What exactly am I to do?" I question, irritably, but it's mainly out of frustration. Lucius has gone too far with this; without Dumbledore the muggleborns won't stand a chance, and worse, the rest might be targeted too.

But there's nothing to do and Minerva takes over temporary duty as Headmistress. I've lent Albus my old childhood home at Spinner's end. It's a vague place, but he's lived in the castle for so long that he has no other places to go. Well, I'm sure he could call in a few favours, but this is easy and quick. He doesn't believe it to be permanent and I hope he's right.

I almost wish another attack would happen to prove Hagrid isn't guilty and that we're not better off without Albus.

My wish is soon granted.

Not even a month has passed when I'm called from the dungeon to the staff room. I'm one of the last ones there and Minerva tells us that another attack has happened.

Ginny Weasley

***

_Neville Longbottom_

I was shocked to learn the Ginny has been taken by the monster. I want, more than anything, to just scream, run away, but I know that Ron needs my support. It was by accident I found out, overhearing it, and I quickly informed Ron. It was my only option.

"Should we tell the others?" I question Ron. We're in the infirmary, visiting Hermione. It took Ron a while to accept the clever Ravenclaw, but now he seems very protective of her. It's a nice development, but like Ron Hermione never really fitted in. Nor did I, really, so we don't fit in together.

"Hermione, we could really use your brains right now," Ron informed Hermione. My eyes caught something in Hermione's hand I hadn't noticed before.

"Ron, what's in her hand?" I question and Ron pries it from the Ravenclaw's hand. It's a note and as Ron reads it I am shocked to realise what this means.

"It's _Potter_, the filthy Slytherin! He's the heir! Don't you see, Neville?!" Ron growls and suddenly stands up. I back away in surprise at the vicious edge of his voice.

"Do you really think so? It's seems a little unlikely," I question. "It could be a coincidence." Ron doesn't look as if he finds that likely, so quick to judge, and I am surprised when his shoulders slump.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But if he's _not_, then he can help us. If the beast in a snake we'll need a parselmouth." Ron is convinced.

***

_Severus Snape_

I'm in shock. Ginny Weasley is a pureblood, and not just pureblood, but one of the oldest ones there are. While normally looked down upon, with their lack of money and large brethren, they nevertheless are pure as pure is.

"This is your chance, Gilderoy, to show us your worth," Felius mentions and Lockhart looks terrified at the idea.

"Yes, you did say you knew where the monster resided," Minerva adds and I take brief pleasure in Lockhart's discomfort. He rushes off with a promise to help, but I'm sure the man is already packing his things.

The meeting conclude and Minerva gets ready to inform the board of governors as well as the Weasley family. I slip into the dungeon to check on my students, as per Minerva's request.

One might assume that the Slytherins would be pleased to be rid of a Weasley, let's face it: one gone wouldn't be noticeable, but they're not. Like me, and many others possibly, they realise that this is bad. Ginny Weasley is a pureblood and if she was targeted, no one is safe.

I note Potter is no where to be found, possibly in the library, which annoys me since a warning had been sent out, just before the meeting, that all students were to go to their common room. Albus will kill me if I don't find the boy, I know, and so with much bother and dislike as possible and trek towards the library to give the insolent boy a piece of my mind.

Surprisingly the boy isn't there and I tiredly assume that he must've been in the common room, I just didn't see him. Either that or he'd behind the disappearance of Ginny Weasley, It wouldn't be all too surprising given what happened on Valentines Day. I'd probably kill anyone who did the same to me.

Briefly I relish is the funny image of what would happen if it turned out to be Potter.

"Severus," a familiar voice shake me out of my reverie and I turn to look at Albus.

"Albus, you're back I see," I greet him with a short nod and shove Potter's whereabouts out of my mind. We make our way towards his office.

"The board of governors felt it wise to reinstate me," he chuckle lightly and I wonder about Lucius. "Your old friend is soon removed from his position. It turned out he had made quite a few severe threats in order to get rid of me," I nod thoughtfully. This was rash, I note, for Lucius. Lucius did blackmail, but not like this, but it seems his need to get rid of Albus superseded his sense.

"Are your Slytherins accounted for?" Questions Albus.

"Yes," I reply, tiredly.

"And Harry?"

"No, he's out doing Dark deeds with the body of the Weaselette before, no doubt, devouring it," I inform him irritably and Albus chuckles. "I didn't see the brat, but he's probably in the common room, which was stuffed when I was there. I checked the library, where you found me, and he's not there," he reach the office and are greeted by Minerva. It seems the Weasley parents have just arrived and Percy Weasley has been told to fetch his siblings.

"Ma'am, I cannot find Ron and I believe Neville Longbottom is missing as well," Percy says upon bringing back his other siblings. Molly Weasley breaks out in hysterics and this continue for quite a while as Albus tries to get things under control. I just praise myself lucky that it's not my house which has so foolishly gone on a rescue mission.

"Lockhart is missing as well," Felius mentions, "I found his wand outside upon patrolling and when I got to his quarters I found them packed up mid-way."

"Why would he stop mid-way?" I wonder.

"He probably decided he could run faster without luggage," Minerva exclaims quietly.

"I'm sure that everything will be unravelled soon enough," Albus informs soothingly. Despite his calm words he retreats soon enough to check the wards, run down spells, speak with portraits and ghosts.

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**Please review**


	15. End of 2nd year

**Thanks for all the reviews. Keep them coming. **

**The next year's going to be very different and hopefully I'm gonna make Harry's disinterested side come out more.**

**If you have ideas for how to proceed let me know; it's always great to be inspired.**

**

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****Chapter 8**

_Ron Weasley_

"We should find Lockhart," Neville mentioned.

"He'll only slow us down. He probably doesn't know anything!" I informed, but Neville shook his head. It was grating on my nerves. Every second we wasted talking was seconds wasted not acting.

"He might help us, in some way," Neville urged me and I nodded and moved towards the staircase leading to the professors office. I didn't want to waste time, so I gave up arguing with Neville. "I find Lockhart and you find Potter," Neville looked uncertain for a moment, but suddenly steeled himself. I'm glad he took the job, because Potter bothered me for some reason and I didn't want to waste time arguing with him.

"Sure," he agreed and I watched as Neville shifted direction towards the library. I hoped, for his sake, Potter was there. I wish now I had asked to go for Potter instead; he'd undoubtedly be easier to persuade than Lockhart.

"Professor Lockhart?" I knocked on the door urgently and it took only seconds before it was opened urgently. Lockhart looked dishevelled and sweaty and I could see stacked boxes from behind him. Anger swelled in me by his betrayal.

"You're packing?" I questioned, my voice reaching an uncomfortable pitch.

"Yes, dear boy, unfortunately I have some--- and I know you're not grown enough to understand, but us adults…" Lockhart rambled. I'm not sure what happened, but the urge of injustice I felt was too much and I blasted Lockhart back into his office. As he lay on the floor I began to feel panic. I'd attacked a teacher. I grabbed his wand and threw it out the window and then froze him, thinking it would be wisest to bring him with me, if not only to use him as bait in some way.

***

_Neville Longbottom_

The brief surge of surety I had felt when being told I'd be getting Potter was slipping through my fingers. Panic was settling in and I wasn't sure of how to fight it off. What if Potter didn't want to help? The panic I felt dimmed; of course he'd help, he was like that. He was the Boy Who Lived.

The library was empty when I got there, of course, but I nevertheless ran it through, knowing that Potter always hid in the back. I don't know why he never followed the rules, but he always stayed despite warnings having been issued.

"Potter!" I was so relieved to see him that I almost fell to the ground in exhaustion. "You're needed! I mean, Ginny Weasley has been taken. The Chamber of Secrets is nearby and we have to go there!" I think I rambled and Potter seemed unimpressed, or surprised.

"What does that have to do with me?" His voice was soft and I felt as if everything stopped for just a brief moment. I regained my breath.

"You're a parselmouth! You can help us defeat the monster, because it's a snake!" I explained hurriedly, motioning for him to come.

"And rush into what? Some chamber?" Potter looked unconvinced and I stopped my mental tracks. Why wasn't he coming? Didn't he understand?

"Potter, you have to help! You're the only one with the ability to speak to snakes! It's Ron's sister!" I suddenly realised what the look he was giving me meant. He didn't care. He didn't even look the slightest bit worried. Panic rose. "What's wrong with you?! You're the Boy Who Lived; you're supposed to help us!"

***

I was oddly calm when I reached Ron, Potter trailing behind me. I think he assumed that I'd be hexing him, but my instincts told me to hit him instead and it had given me the second I needed to stun him. I actually stunned him! I've never been able to stun before!

"Neville, what happened with Potter?" Ron was pale, but his worry seemed to fade for a second.

"And Professor Lockhart," I replied, seeing the limp Professor on the ground. Ron growled something too low for me to hear and then his eyes shot towards Potter. He didn't ask anything, but I think he might've been afraid of my answer as to why Potter was unconscious. By mutual agreement we pushed Lockhart down the pipe first. The echo of his landing reached us and I could hear that he had regained consciousness. Without hesitation Ron jumped down and I threw Potter next and followed suit. A queasy feeling was spreading inside of me.

***

_Severus Snape_

No portraits knew anything about the events and nor did the ghost. I worried that we would have to floo the Ministry, but I realised that we wouldn't have any choice soon. Albus's options were running scarce and the Weasley family were inconsolable.

But it was soon unravelled. And it came in the package of four students, one covered in blood and slime, who turned out to be Harry Potter. It was Albus's glare that silenced me, but otherwise I'm sure my rant would've been heard of the way to Hogsmeade. For everything I've done, trying to keep him safe due to a stupid dept I feel towards his father the child has the nerve to go hunt down some dangerous psychopath.

"Oh Ginny!" Molly Weasley crushed her daughter in a tight embrace and both girls sobbed. I looked away from the scene in distaste and focused on Potter, who looked very grim and eyes diverted towards the ground. What thoughts ran through his mind right now? I wondered.

"I believe there's quite the story to tell," Albus looked at the three boys over his half-moon spectacles and it was noted, by all, how Potter looked at the two others with a murderous glare and they, in turn, seemed to edge farther away. I realised this was the first time I had seen the boy show such hostility, but I didn't delve into it as their teenage-issues are none of my concern.

"Boys?" Albus prodded and fretted under the Headmaster's watchful gaze.

"Neville overheard that my sister had been taken!" Weasley's words made sense and I was suddenly able to see how this could spiral into actions.

"And pray tell, Mr Weasley, why you found your teachers inadequate to take care of the situation?" I questioned angrily, but a snort from Potter silenced me.

"Mr Potter?" Albus questioned before I could throw a fit. I assume it was the wisest things as well.

"You've hardly shown yourself capable at handling this situation, Sir," Potter had the nerve of saying. I frowned, angered.

"And so you decided to play the hero, Potter!" My voice was layered with mockery and I enjoyed the tinge of red staining the boy's cheeks.

"I _didn't_ go. _They_ forced me at wand point!" Potter looked up at the Gryffindors, but the anger he seemed to have felt moments before had evaporated and he simply stared at them almost bored. I could still see the tension of his jaw as he spoke, which seemed to be the only indication of his anger.

"Only a little! And how could you refuse?" Longbottom questioned, his voice was accusing as if Potter had done something terrible wrong that I wasn't entirely sure was.

"From the top, please!" Everyone fell silent and Weasley and Longbottom shared a glance.

"Well, we heard Ginny was taken and … well Hermione figured out where the chamber might be! And what was in it, too. We heard Lockhart would go there to fight the monster, but didn't know where it was, so we went to tell him," Ron Weasley informed as if this was simple logic.

"And where is Professor Lockhart?" Minerva asked, not seeing the Professor. The kids shared a glance and Potter barked out a laugh. This was not the Potter I knew, but I assumed it was the stress.

"Well, he hit his head … and seemed a bit delusional now. We bound him in his office" Longbottom explained uncertain and I briefly wondered how Lockhart hit his head. Longbottom was holding back.

"The beginning," Minerva pointed out. Madam Pompfrey ushered Mr and Mrs Weasley out of the room with their offspring, leaving only Ron Weasley back with Potter and Longbottom.

"Lockhart was going to leave, so we, I, forced him to come with us. Neville fetched Potter. When we got there we found the entrance, or what we assumed it to be, and got Potter to open it" I looked towards Potter. He seemed to have found some inner peace and held a neutral expression. Almost, his stance seemed much too tight for someone relaxed.

"They had me at wand point," Potter informed once more, his voice cool and collected. He fell silent, disinterested in divulging any more information.

"We went into the hole. Then down there Lockhart tried to grab Ron's wand and the cave crashed, leaving Potter on the other side than us," Longbottom's voice still held the tone of a scared boy. I wondered how he could ever get the guts to do something like this.

"And then what?" Albus prodded kindly.

"We gave Potter his wand so he could find my sister and then we'd follow him once we got rid of the stones," silence fell as Weasley spoke, "we didn't want to waste time! That's why we sent Potter ahead!" He explained; fearful that he was being punished for saving some time. Still, Potter's lack of interest in sharing was bothering me. What happened then? I shared a look with the Headmaster.

"Mr. Potter?" Albus questioned, "I believe the next part is yours," Albus smiled kindly once more and the boy stood a little straighter.

"I went into the chamber and there I met Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort's younger self, who had trapped Ginny Weasley through the diary and was leeching of her life. We fought and I managed to destroy the diary." Potter's voice was swift and pointed. I stared at him unable to comprehend what had happened.

"How did you destroy the diary?" I wondered.

"With the basilisk's tooth. It was the monster lurking around at Hogwarts, by the way." His words could seem careless and amused, but his tone was distracted and neutral. It made me uncertain of how to read him correctly.

"How the hell did you kill a basilisk?" My voice had risen and I hadn't noticed. Albus sent me a warning look.

"I believe this conversation can be held off for a short while. Severus, Minerva, please escort the Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Weasley to the hospital wing."

***

Minerva pulled her Gryffindors to the hospital wing and I was left the roam the castle for a short while, possibly figure out the true events. I moved deliberately towards the girl's bathroom.

"Ah, Professor," Filch greeted me. "I just met Mr. Malfoy, he looked quite angry," the caretaker looked happy at the thought. I wanted to tell him that he, Filch, would be the first to go should Lucius ever get his will through.

"Thank you," I replied, "the potion is ready, so you should probably go the hospital wing to see to your cat." The caretaker took off and I was left alone. I stared towards the bathroom, equally curious and worried. I had to know what happened and I made me move my feet. I managed to ignore the thoughts of a possible confrontation between Lucius and Albus and pushed the door open.

It looked remarkably normal, but I could hear the reason for girls not to enter gurgle in the system somewhere. I was quick to locate the right sink, but no spells allowed me to pass.

"Hello Professor," the sweet singsong voice of Murtle greeted me. She made a hiccupping sound.

"I need to get down there; can you see if I can get in, if there's anything to trigger a response?" I turned to the ghost who seemed eager at the prospect of helping.

"Oooooh no," she giggled strangely, "I cannot go down there; I've tried. There's something that keeps _us_ away." My hopes fell to the ground. How could I solve this otherwise? I could hardly ask Potter, since it was him I was trying to decipher.

Within hours I manage to settle into a nice sense of familiarity. Potter had been in a small accident in the Slytherin common room, apparently due to him freeing the Malfoy family elf. The story is later given to me by Albus. I'm also informed that Potter didn't add much more to the story and it leaves me with a sense of curiosity. Only Potter could run into a wayward house-elf, willing to go through hell of his bonded family to save him; typical Potter-luck. I bloody well didn't have a house-elf save me. It's despicable how everyone adores him, even elves.

It makes me a little nasty towards the boy, but he doesn't seem to react to my foul mood. It would be a wonderful excuse to give him twenty detentions for the next year. It's nice that things seem normal again.

End of year 2.

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